


The Temptation of Divinity

by keelywolfe



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Double Penetration, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fellcest - Freeform, Fontcest, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex as a form of caring, Sex as a sacred duty, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus/Underfell Sans/Underswap Papyrus, Underfell Papyrus/Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Unhealthy Relationships, divine possession, mentions of past injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23263672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Edge and Red are bodyguards for the Queen's Judge, Rus, and they more than happy to watch over him.In every way possible.
Relationships: Background Kustard - Relationship, Papyrus/Blue, Papyrus/Papyrus (Undertale), Papyrus/Sans (Undertale), Sans/Blue, SpicyHoneyMustard - Relationship
Comments: 250
Kudos: 289





	1. Showtime

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me!!😭😭😭
> 
> I got this idea into my head and it refused to be banished. Naughty, naughty boys, read the warnings before you dive in!

* * *

Edge had always hated meetings and while they’d never said as much, he was certain that the others did as well. 

Endless, trite negotiations where Humans and Monsters both spent hours dancing around the subjects they truly wished to discuss, speaking through clenched teeth as they struggled to find a common ground to agree upon. 

Coming from a world where agreements came either briskly or at the expense of spilled dust, for Edge it was something of an adjustment.

Edge stood stiffly by the door, hands clasped in front of him as he watched the Human Leaders who were meeting with the Queen and her Judge. The Humans had politely requested a private meeting of only them and as the head of Security, Edge just as politely told them in so many words that he’d sooner gift-wrap his own soul for them to dust at their leisure. No Humans were ever going to be alone with the Queen on his watch and as for Rus…

Humans were often tetchy about Rus once they learned his purpose; their Judge, the one who could weigh the souls of Monsters and Humans alike. If mere magic discomfited them, then knowing someone could see the heaviness of their ugliest sins could send them into a blustering rage. Even some Monsters found it unsettling at times and it was Edge’s duty to keep Rus safe, an ofttimes thankless task that he’d taken on before they’d even met.

These days, Rus’s safety was no duty, but a necessity for Edge’s peace of mind. Nothing was going to hurt him, not Humans, not Monster, no one. It was a promise he swore to himself daily. 

The conference room for this particular meeting was at the Embassy and as a concession to meeting on less than neutral soil, Edge readily agreed to be the only security in the room. It did not mean he was the only one watching and there was no reason for these Humans to know that Red could be here between one blink and the next. Besides, there were only ten of the Humans, all sweating and nervous in their uncomfortably fitting suits, trying to decide if the offered coffee and pastries were safe to consume. Hardly cause for concern.

Edge wondered with dry amusement if they’d be more willing to choose a muffin if they knew all of it was fresh that morning from the local Tim Horton's.

The stiff conversation held little interest to him and instead, Edge measured their body language, reading their intent. Humans worried so fearfully about being Judged and yet had no idea how much they revealed with a single tapping pencil or the stuttering bounce of a leg beneath the table. They were nervous, unsettled, but not truly afraid and it was enough for Edge to relax, as much as he was able this close to unfamiliar Humans. Nerves were to be expected and much easier to predict than fear. 

After a few wary glances, the Humans no longer paid him any mind and that was fine by Edge. He didn’t miss the slight flicker of pale lights in his direction, just as quickly flicking away, nor the slight smile that curved Rus’s mouth. His expression was one of dutiful interest, paying close attention to the rather unpleasant Human who was asking for concessions that they weren’t about to make. The glance that flicked Edge’s way again for the briefest of seconds and then away said that the negotiations weren’t holding his attention as they should. 

Edge shifted the weight of his gaze entirely to Rus, calmly watching him so that the next glance he snuck was met with a stare his own. Rus’s sockets widening then quickly returning to the Humans and none of them would have any idea what the faint, flustered orange rising in his cheek bones meant. 

Edge knew, very well, indeed. 

_‘easy, boss,’_ drawled through the earpiece in his auditory canal, _‘don’t wanna make a bad impression on all these humies, do ya.’_

There was no way to reply to his brother without being overheard and Edge only stood, his gloved hands clasped in front of him, his expression one of bland neutrality.

_‘can’t blame ya for drooling, though, he cleans up too fucking nice.’_

He did. Rus rarely wore the formal robes of his office, only at the Queen’s request and still reluctantly. Silken, creamy ivory with the delta rune delicately embroidered on his chest, discreetly hugging the lithe line of his body as they covered his slim, lovely bones from the high collar to where the hem brushed the floor, showing only peeks of the tips of his shoes. It made him look coolly resplendent, untouchable and yet—

_‘‘course, that only makes ya want to dirty ‘im up, don’t it.’_

_Stop,_ Edge did not, could not say. He shifted his stance, widening it as discreetly as he could. Not at all enough for any bastards watching through the room cameras, who only chuckled, darkly pleased.

_‘yeah, ya like that idea, dontcha. think he’d look real good on that table. pull those robes up and show off those pretty bones. bet he don’t have much on under it and ya always look good between his legs, ya know. draggin’ all those sweet sounds outta him, making him cry and moan while your fuckin’ that tight little cunt until he’s begging to cum.’_

Control, that was all, he’d spent years working on his control. But his brother’s husky voice was cruelly relentless, worming its way from his hearing and settling into his warming thoughts. 

_‘course, our sweet thing always has a lot to say when ya give ‘im head, don’t he. don’t always make sense but it do make for a hellava show.’_ Edge could hear a soft clacking sound, a fingertip tapping consideringly against teeth. _‘can’t decide what i’d rather see right now. you eating him out or you ramming him until he screams. both’re worth the price of admission.’_

A ticklish trickle of sweat fell from Edge’s brow bone and he plucked out a handkerchief, wiping it away discreetly. The Queen noticed, glancing at him with faint concern. He only shook his head ever so slightly and she returned her attention to the Humans, her tight smile a fair indication of how well their negotiations were not going. 

_‘guess i’ll hafta to let ya choose, don’t think i can. whatcha think, bro, how ya gonna wreck that pussy today?’_ Through the earpiece, Edge could hear a chair creaking, a familiar scuffing sound of Red propping his boots up on the desktop despite frequent admonishments to keep his filthy feet on the floor. _‘oh, i got a plan now. ya fuck him good, fuck him up, wear him out for me. think after you’re done i’ll give our boy a good tongue-lashing. see if we can get him to pass out again, yeah?’_ There was the faint, obscene sound of his brother licking his teeth. _‘he always tastes better with a little sauce on the side.’_

The queen abruptly standing startled Edge so much he actually twitched, only barely catching himself from flinching. She towered over the Humans, who gaped at her as she said coolly. “Gentleman, I believe we’re finished for the day.”

None of them seemed ready to question her commanding authority, all of them standing, blustering and scrambling for briefcases and paperwork. When they were ready, Edge stepped silently aside, opening the door and gesturing curtly to the rest of the security team. They would lead the Humans out of the Embassy and if they found Edge’s appearance to be unsettling, a pack of fierce Dogs didn’t seem to instill any additional confidence. 

He closed the door and the moment it shut, the Queen sagged, pulling off her crown to toss it uncaringly to the tabletop and her head falling into her hands. “Why must they be so aggravating!” she burst out, all the frustration that she refused to show the Humans overflowing, spilling out into the air between them. 

“hey, it’ll be okay, tori,” Rus soothed, even as Edge struggled not to show his distaste at the familiarity in that nickname. He moved to stand behind her, rubbing her stiff shoulders until she began to relax, some of her tension flowing away. “we’ll work through it. look, why don’t you head out for the day? go on home, get a glass of wine, spend some time with that kid of yours and we’ll give it another shot tomorrow, yeah?”

A heavy sigh and the Queen nodded, twisting her head to smile up at him, “You’re right, of course. You always know what to say.”

“of course i do,” Rus said loftily, “i’m your advisor, so _listen_ to my _sound advice_. hit the bricks, head home.”

She laughed, tiredly amused, "I should have chosen the corn muffin with my coffee, then I could have been _all ears_." 

Edge chose that moment to interrupt, offering quietly, “The Humans have left the building.”

“Thank you, Edge,” the Queen nodded and stood. “I believe I will go home.”

“Your car will be brought around in ten minutes,” Edge told her. She nodded again, her smile less personal than the one she offered Rus but no less sincere. 

The second she was gone, Rus slumped back in his own chair. Gone was the posed, coolly competent Judge, regal and distant, and left behind was only Rus, his knees sprawled as far apart as his robes allowed, long arms dangling on either side of the chair almost to the floor.

“well, that was a waste of an afternoon,” Rus sighed out. Staring up glumly at the ceiling, he didn’t noticed Edge discreetly twisting the lock on the door. “why do they have to make everything so diffi—hey!”

Rus flailed in his arms as Edge scooped him easily up, carrying his light weight over to sit him on the table. For once, the position made Rus slightly shorter than him and there was nothing in those pale eye lights but startled confusion. It seemed his formal decorum was not completely abandoned yet. 

“what are you do-oooing!” It rose into a high-pitched yelp as Edge pushed him to lay back before roughly yanked those robes up to his femurs without a care for the delicacy of the material. Red was correct, there was nothing beneath them but bones, glossy and slim, begging for a rough hand to slide over them until the delicate joints glowed brightly with desire. 

“I’m giving you a way to be productive,” Edge murmured. He bit the fingertip of one of his gloves, pulling it off and spitting it to the floor, already forgotten as he ran his bared hand up Rus’s silken femur to thumb at the place where the joint met his pelvis. Rus arched into the touch, husking out a moan as Edge kept up the journey, fondling his pubic symphysis with deliberate intent. 

A flood of bright magic filled Rus’s pelvic cradle, his pussy snapping into place. Even as he squirmed and moaned, Rus’s hands fluttered shyly down as if to cover it from Edge’s avid gaze, his cheek bones flushing brilliantly. “do i even want to ask what’s gotten into you?”

“should be more worried about what’s gettin’ into you.” Came from behind them. Edge did not look; he could picture his brother’s lasciviously eager grin as easily as a photograph. Rus’s blush only deepened, honey-golden and lovely. “c’mon, bro, hurry it up. i’ve been waiting all day for a show and i’m gonna play judge and jury for once and say he’s ready to give one.” 

It was easy to simply ignore that careless command. Trailing a single fingertip along the soft, tempting folds found Rus already slippery, easily taking that finger inside. Another finger joined the first and if Red was hoping for a show, the way Rus arched, crying out as his femurs slid even further apart in generous offering already made for a lovely performance. Already he was debauched, his teeth parting to allow those lovely cries to escape, sweat beading prettily on his skull and his robes crumpled and bunched up around his waist. 

“Beautiful,” Edge murmured, and despite the heat bulging at his own crotch, he would have been content to simply watch this. The slippery slide of his pale cracked phalanges into the golden petal softness of Rus’s pussy was delicious enough, no matter what his brother thought of it. A demonstration that fingers were quite nice things on their own.

“please!” Rus suddenly burst out, panting as he scrambled to grab at Edge’s wrist, stilling his thrusting fingers. He gulped loudly, his pleading look darting from Edge to someplace behind him where surely Red was watching them with scarlet-bright intensity. “oh, please, want you, need you, please!”

That decided him and Edge ignored the tremor in his hand as he pulled his fingers free with a wet, obscene sound and went for his belt. His fingers were still too slick and he cursed as he fumbled at his zipper, the tiny tab stubbornly refusing to be lowered. 

Smaller hands settled over his own, the fingers as cracked and damaged as his own, and arms wrapping around him from behind. “hang on, i got you, bro.”

Edge sighed in relief as Red nimbly opened his pants, reaching inside to take hold of his cock, drawing him out. He gave the shaft a brisk, unnecessary stroke. Edge was already achingly hard, crimson wetness beading at the tip and spread by Red’s careless touch. A light push at the small of his back urged him to step forward and Edge did, bracing his hands on the table as he settled in between Rus’s spread femurs. 

They both groaned at the first touch of his cockhead against Rus’s slit as Red lined Edge up, pressing him firmly to Rus’s entrance.

“there ya go,” Red crooned, even as he stepped back, eye lights glittering as he took in the scene before him, the two of them hovering at the cusp of being joined, “c’mon now, give him what he wants.”

It was a command Edge was more than willing to obey. This time. 

Rus threw his head back at the first slow thrust, hands scrabbling desperately at Edge’s shoulders as broken cries welled from his throat, thoroughly lost to the sensation of being penetrated, and that was where Edge’s patience broke. 

With a low growl, he thrust deep inside, hips snapping forward, and he could only be dimly grateful for the room’s soundproofing as Rus choked on a scream. The gloriously tight heat of his cunt rippled and clenched around him as if trying to suck him in even deeper. Edge groaned deeply, rolling his hips in a desperate rhythm, slamming their bodies together even as Rus clawed at his scapulas, blunted fingertips scratching chalkily as bone met bone. 

Red clambered up on the table, sneakers squeaking against mahogany as he knelt at Rus’s head. He managed to lift Rus’s thrashing skull into his lap, then took hold of his wrists, forcing his hands down to the tabletop. Freeing Edge from his hold only let him thrust deeper, both hands gripping Rus’s iliac crests as he drove into him with aching force, glorying in the hot clench of the pseudoflesh around him. 

“that’s it, baby,” Red crooned out, barely audible over the clatter of bones against each other. “fuck yes, you’re beautiful. take it, take him, you gorgeous bastard.”

“oh, oh, i…i need…” Rus stammered out, “oh, oh, please, ohhh!” He strained against Red’s hold, unable to break his unyielding grip even as he shuddered and whined, caught between them, struggling uselessly against Edge’s weight as he tried to arch up even as orgasm struck him with the force of a velvet-wrapped blow. His eye lights blew wide, flooding with deep orange before his sockets scrunched closed and he came with a warbling cry, writhing and whimpering in a gorgeous display of desperate pleasure. 

Edge leaned down to cover his pleading mouth with his own, managing a degree of tenderness even now with Rus’s sweet cunt pulsing and spasming around him, still thrusting erratically as he groaned through his teeth, gloriously engulfed by the orgasm rippling up his spine. 

It took a while for Edge to return to his senses, gulping in deep gasps of air that were thick with the rich tang of their sex. The clammy feel of his own sweat beneath his clothing was uncomfortably acute, but there was no attention to spare for that now. Not with Rus clinging to him, his own breathing closer to sobs as he buried his face into the front of Edge’s once pristine shirt, smearing it with sweat and tears, all the fluids sex brought with it staining it. 

Edge couldn’t have possibly cared less. He rested the bulk of his weight on one trembling arm, wrapping the other around Rus and pulling him close to murmur gentle reassurance against the side of his skull. 

His need for closeness after sex was endlessly endearing and Edge always indulged it, wishing for Rus to always be so, greedily unashamed to cuddle in close and steal kisses and soft touches even as he shivered with pleasurable little aftershocks. 

A cleared throat had them both looking up at Red, who waggled his fingers in a mocking wave. “thanks, you two, good to be remembered.”

Edge scowled even as Rus made a sound of distress, reaching out for Red who took that feebly groping hand in his own, twining their fingers together. As always, their Rus acting as a conduit between them, tying them together past the bond of brotherhood. Their Rus. 

Theirs.

“love you,” Rus slurred out. “love you both.” Red pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles with the uncommon tenderness that belonged to Rus alone. Then he let go, crawling over to the side of the table.

“love you, too, honey, but ya ain’t done yet.” Red gave Edge’s shoulder a rough shove and he went without protest, grimacing as he withdrew and even as he tried to be gentle, Rus let out a little noise of discomfort, knees drawing up slightly as he winced. Edge staggered back, nearly falling into one of the chairs, legs akimbo and his trousers sagging as he took in the view. 

Rus, his once immaculate robes stained and rumpled where they were rucked up around his pelvis, cloth and bone contrasting against the dark wood of the table. He lay bared and trembling, his bent legs dangling, femurs still spread to show his lovely cunt painted with thick crimson fluid, marked by Edge’s release. A gorgeous, glorious ruin, beautifully tempting and Edge's magic gave a hopeful throb at his crotch, gamely willing. 

Edge pushed it sternly down. After all, he’d had his turn. 

His brother hopped back down to the floor and the height of the table nearly put Rus’s pelvis at a level with his mouth. His hands settling on Rus’s knees made him lift his skull, watching blearily as Red ran his thumbs up the insides of Rus’s femurs, smearing those heavy spatters of crimson. 

Red gave Rus a wink as he ran his tongue lightly over his jagged teeth, the shade a deeper scarlet and no less eager. 

“had my show, now it’s time for dinner,” Red leered.

“wha—ahh!!” Confusion jolted into disbelief as Rus’s skull fell back on the table with a painful sounding thunk. He convulsed, choking out a wail as Red buried his face between his femurs, wet, sloppy sounds spilling into the air to tangle with Rus’s newly desperate cries. 

Edge only propped his chin on a hand to watch avidly. It was his turn for a show, and he planned to enjoy it. 

* * *

tbc


	2. Secret Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, man, I make no excuses for my writer's brain. 
> 
> I've always thought that having the Judge be something otherworldly or divine was an interesting concept, so you'll forgive me if I explore that a little within my porn.

* * *

Truth be told, Edge probably should scold Red about cleaning his weapons out in the open, but he had to admit. The cold stare from a fierce skeleton sharpening a gleaming knife did help keep any gawkers at bay.

This section of the prayer gardens was supposed to be restricted for the Judge’s use, but looky-loos still managed to wander in from time to time, trying to steal a worshipful glance at him or beg for a hasty blessing. Perhaps if Edge’s duties didn’t involve keeping Rus safe from those very Monsters, he would have been more understanding. 

Judges were awe-inspiring, their souls acting in divine symbiosis with the Angel. Their people set the Judge high upon pedestals as marvelous beings of blessing and light coupled with their darker side of judgment and retribution, and Monsters often looked upon them with reverence. 

Once, Edge would even have felt the same, before he met Rus. Within five minutes of meeting their charge, he’d tripped over his lengthy robes and fallen on top of Red, sending them both crashing to the ground with an astonishing amount of impressively creative swearing on both their parts. Reverence was difficult to maintain in those circumstances.

Love, on the other hand…

Edge leaned against a nearby tree, taking in the view that by rights of being a Chosen guard belonged only to him and Red. Rus was sitting cross-legged on a woven mat, his plainer, everyday robes settled around him, sockets closed and hands resting loosely on his knees. His expression was one of serenity, his chin lowered towards his chest as he sat amongst the riotous flora and greenery of the hanging gardens, as lovely as one of the many nearby flowers. 

Softly, Edge asked, "What is he doing?"

Red only shrugged and didn’t stop scraping his blade against the whetstone, even though it was probably sharp enough by now to sever an hour into a hundred minutes. "meditatin'. chattin' with his inner sanctum, communing with the judges of the past, becoming one with the ether. whatever the shit he does, who the fuck knows.”

Who the fuck knew, indeed. Rus tried to explain to them many times what it was like to share symbiosis with the Judge, to carry memories from all the Judges of the past along with his own. Frankly, Edge found the implications of it to be horrifying, to never be alone in his own head. It wasn't a role Rus had wanted either, he knew, from soft, pained confessions in the darkest part of night, whispering to them even as Rus trembled in their arms, haunted by nightmares that weren’t his own. But Rus was the Divine Chosen, and he tried so very hard to uphold the dignity of his station but—

A low snore carried over to them, Rus’s chin falling to rest against his sternum.

"Yes, he's very dedicated," Edge said dryly. He left Red to his menacing and went over to Rus, crouching next to him. He took a moment to puzzle out where Rus’s limbs were buried in the voluminous robes, until finally Edge was able to scoop him up into his arms. "Come on, love."

“hnnn?” Rus mumbled sleepily. His sockets barely opened, pale eye lights peeking out and the happiness in his lazy smile at seeing Edge warmed his soul. “hi there.”

“Hi yourself.” Edge ducked his head and took a soft kiss, tasting the surge of sharp sweetness that could only mean one thing. He drew back and murmured, “Your magic is building up again.” Acting as a symbiont for the Judge meant Rus always had a high level of magic, far too much for his body to process. The excess of magic needed an outlet and the simplest way was—

Rus’s grin widened, honeyed tongue flicking out to sweep lightly across his teeth. “is that an offer?”

“It’s my honor and my duty to assist with all your needs,” Edge told him loftily, if only to see Rus’s expression. 

As expected, Rus made a face, skull twisting in distaste, “less of that would be great. i know it’s your byline, but i don’t really care what it says on the tin.”

The sound of gravel crunching heralded Red’s approach, a distinct sign that he’d wanted to be heard even as he chuckled, “honey love, it’s our job to take care of ya when you’re horny, so how’s about you two come down here let me get to work.”

“you sweet talker,” Rus said dryly. But he gave Edge a soft peck then allowed him to settle them both back down on the mat, tugging up his robes and spreading his legs.

The thin pants he wore beneath his robes were easy discarded, revealing slim, lovely bones, smooth and pristine, and the soft folds of his already formed pussy, the lips gleaming with eager dampness. 

Edge sat behind him, pulling Rus back between his legs and hooking his ankles over Rus’s to keep him spread open as he dropped a hand between his femurs to explore those silky folds. Soft and warm, slicked with slipperiness that let him effortlessly accept two fingers inside even as Rus warbled out a cry, arching up into that touch. 

Red sat down in front of them and already there was a simmer of desire in his eye lights as he watched Rus shiver and writhe under Edge’s careful fingering. 

“Already so wet,” Edge crooned. His fingers moved easily in that wetness, sliding in up to the knuckles. “Were you having good dreams?”

Rus shook his head stubbornly, though he buried his face against Edge’s neck as he mumbled out, “was meditating, not…oooh!”

He broke off on a gasp as Red seemed to decide he’d had enough of simply watching. He ducked his head, his hot, clever tongue briefly sliding alongside Edge’s twisting fingers. Red pulled off with an obscene slurp to ask, “what was that, pretty? can’t hear ya.”

“don’t stop!” Rus groaned, hissing as Edge scraped his teeth lightly across his cervical vertebrae, offering a tantalizing hint of pain to war against the pleasure of his thrusting fingers. 

“oh, we can do this all day, pretty.” Red bent again to lick his way up, eye lights on Rus’s face as he tongued at his clit teasingly before drawing back to lick the syrupy juices from his teeth while his hands went to his belt. The buckle clanked loudly in the peace of the surrounding garden as he roughly opened his pants, pulling out his cock. “sweet as honeysuckle on the vine.”

Rus laughed weakly, a lovely honeyed blush flooding his cheek bones. Edge couldn’t resist kissing it, a brush of his teeth over angular bone and honestly, how dare Rus be so beautiful, adorable shyness tangled up with bold need. He didn’t hesitate to spread his femurs wider, giving Red plenty of room to shuffle between them. “do you even know what honeysuckle looks like?”

“nope, this is the only flower i need.” His cock wasn’t as long as Edge’s, but the girth was impressive, stretching Rus’s lips as Red pushed inside and his extensive collection of clever retorts petered out as he moaned, “fuck, rus, you always feel so good.”

It was a gorgeous sight. Sitting where he was granted Edge a unique, obscene view of Rus’s pelvic inlet, allowing him to watch Red fucking their lover, his cock visible through honey gold magic as he thrust into the slickness of Rus’s formed pussy. Rus writhed between them, wordless cries and pleading getting louder as his spine bowed in an arch, his hips moving frantically. 

“oh!” Rus whimpered out, his skull digging into Edge’s shoulder as he threw his head back, quivering and jerking as he found his first peak. It was wildly erotic, watching him writhe while those slender hands grapple desperately at Red as Rus shuddered and squirmed his way to an engulfing orgasm, from his curling toes all the way up to the gasping mouth that frantically sought out Edge’s.

“That’s one,” Edge murmured when Rus broke the kiss, his head falling to instead pant hot and damp against Edge’s collarbone. He soothed a hand down Rus’s ribcage, seeking out places he knew were sensitive to keep him riding that crest of pleasure. The rasp of his glove against bone coupled with the rhythmic slickness of fucking sang through the air. 

“we keepin’ count, bro?” Red grunted. His thrusts slowed, moving shallowly, and Edge could imagine the clench of Rus’s walls around him, knew exactly how it felt to have them tighten exquisitely when Rus came. 

“Not at all.” Edge nuzzled a kiss against Rus’s skull, tasting the sweet tang of his sweat. “I'm sure you'll do the best you can manage."

“if you two start fighting over me,” Rus panted, “no one gets to play.” It was warning with some teeth; he’d shortcutted away from them before and left them frantically searching for him, panicked over the loss of their charge while he waited for them stowed safely away in their quarters. 

“aw, we ain’t fightin’, darlin’.” Red couldn’t reach high enough for a real kiss and settled for pressing one against the inside of Rus’s femur where it was drawn up, teeth clacking softly against the bone. “me and my bro know how to share our toys.”

His indignant reply was cut off by a startled moan as Edge reached down and took his clit between two fingers, stroking the swollen nub in time with Red’s renewed thrusts. His slim hips rocked in hitched little movements, his sacrum pressing dissatisfying against Edge’s still-clothed cock. That was fine, this was for Rus, and Edge was patient. Besides, the desperate, adoring noises that poured from Rus’s throat were a distinct pleasure all their own. 

It took three more orgasms before Rus finally sagged back against Edge, weakly clinging as Red came to a shattered climax of his own, hips jerking even as the golden magic in Rus’s pelvis bloomed with crimson, his brother’s come flowering inside him. Red sagged down on them both and Edge took their weight easily, holding them until Red finally sighed, deeply satisfied, and carefully withdrew. 

“You are so beautiful,” Edge murmured against the side of Rus’s skull. He was, utterly debauched with his slim legs akimbo, the delicate, swollen folds of his golden pussy tainted with crimson, like petals bruised by a satisfying storm. One that wasn’t over yet, because Rus shifted in his lap, his weakly coaxing hips grinding back against Edge’s aching cock where it pressed firmly to his sacrum.

With the fingertips of one hand, he turned Rus’s unresisting face to his, covering that teasing mouth with his own, swallowing his sighs even as he fumbled at his belt with his other hand. He was more than ready for his turn and he wouldn’t finish until Rus asked, until he _begged_ , that throaty, gorgeous voice of his wrecked and pleading— 

“My apologies to interrupt your sacred duties.”

The queen was only at the garden entrance and turned away, but Rus still yelped, scrambling out of Edge’s arms. 

The sound of her voice was enough to deflate Edge’s desire instantly, as was his own inner anger that he’d failed to notice her approach. She could have been anyone and it was sheer luck that she was no danger to Rus. Even the divine couldn’t always protect a Judge, that was their purpose, his and Red’s. Their sacred duty, to safeguard him even at the expense of their own lives and if Edge could admit to himself in the privacy of his own soul that it was less the Judge and more Rus that he would willingly die for, the Angel hadn’t taken him to task for it yet. 

A glance at Red confirmed he was simmering in his own self-blame, straightening his clothes with more force than was strictly necessary, moving to stand close to Rus, who was still frantically cleaning himself up. 

The pants he’d been wearing earlier were sacrificed to mop up between his legs, crimson soaking into the pale cloth that was hastily shoved beneath the meditation mat. Rus grimaced in distaste as he jerked his robes down over his mostly clean legs. 

“seriously, tori?” Rus groaned, even as he tried to smooth his robes into some semblance of order. 

The wealth of amusement in the Queen’s voice might well have been enough for her to purchase another kingdom. “There’s no need for embarrassment, surely! It isn’t as if I don’t know—”

Rus interrupted, a touchy shrilly, “let’s keep up a polite fiction, yeah?”

“Of course,” the Queen agreed. “Whatever fairy tale you prefer. Perhaps Little Red Riding Hood?”

“no jokes about riding, tori, please!”

The queen only laughed softly. She, at least, never tried to force Rus to conform to expectations any more than necessary. From what Edge knew, they’d been friends even before Rus was Chosen, and whatever pedestal she kept Rus upon was low enough for him to easily step off whenever his duties weren’t called for. Unfortunately, those duties were often needed, and her amusement faded as she said, more seriously, “Again, I am sorry to interrupt, but there is a Judgment required.”

Rus stiffened, but offered no protest. In mere seconds, calm settled over his features, those pale eye lights fading away, leaving his sockets empty and dark, and the disorder of his robes seemed to fall into place, smoothed by unseen hands. 

Reverence was no longer what Edge considered when he thought of the Judge. Indeed, his emotions were far more blasphemous, bordering on hatred. Even Rus’s voice was deeper, holding the weight of Judgement and none of Rus’s innate sweetness as he said, coolly, “I’m Ready. Edge, You Will Join Me. Red, Please Wait For Me Back At Our Rooms.”

Red’s expression closed off and he nodded curtly, turning on heel and heading back to their quarters. Once there, Edge knew he would ready things for their return. Hot tea, something light to eat, soft blankets piled high on their shared bed and pulled back invitingly. Preparing not for the Judge but for Rus.

Edge followed behind Rus as he strode out, the Queen falling into step beside him as they made their way to the Judgement Hall. His own magic was heightened, searching for any danger, any violent intent towards their Judge whose long strides were carrying him towards the one who required punishment, and that was where his attention would be solely focused until it was over. He was lit from within in a terrible beauty, a golden halo of light forming around his skull and dancing like flames along the slender bones of his fingers. 

Monsters stared as they passed, some falling to their knees in muttered prayer, asking for blessings from the Angel that Judgment never need be passed over them. 

Edge paid them no mind past checking for any threat, and if Edge’s soul ached to see Rus overtaken, knowing he was lost and lonely within the confining prison of being an avatar to divinity, he said nothing. This was his duty, the vow he’d taken years ago at the feet of the Queen and her Judge, and he would see it done. 

And when it was over, Edge would still be there, him and his brother, helping Rus to find himself again, guiding him back home. 

-finis-


	3. A Judicious Amount of Effort

* * *

It was a simple truth that patience was a learned skill. Some were born with it, the same that they were born with their magical traits or the ability to recall a song only heard once. Red could be endlessly patient when circumstances called for it, outwardly placid and if there was anything roiling within him beneath the surface, none of it ever emerged in the light of day.

Patience did not come to Edge as easily. For him it was a learned behavior and joining the guard was a good training in the art of how to wait. It would never be innate to him, but these days Edge managed well enough. 

Except on Judgment days. 

In the Underground, the Judgement Hall in New Home had been elegant, golden and ethereal, worthy of an avatar of the Angel. Though he’d only seen it once Edge remembered it with perfect clarity, and no wonder; that was the day he took his vows, kneeling before the previous Judge and swearing his fealty to the Angel as his brother had done only a couple years before him. That was before Rus, before he and Red were Chosen, and there were times his dreams altered the memory, set him kneeling before Rus as he looked down at him with the terrible, empty sockets of the Judge to deem whether he was worthy. 

On the Surface, things were markedly different. For one, rather than a Judgement Hall, it was more of a corner office in the Embassy and while Edge, having never been inside, didn’t know anything about the décor, it hardly seemed elegant for a Judging to take place around the corner from the copy machine. 

Outside was a sitting area with several comfortable chairs, large enough even for the Queen, and Edge wondered sourly what the rest of the Monster community would think if they knew that those awaiting the results of a Judgement sat around in a waiting room reminiscent of a Human dentist office. 

This was where Edge was currently standing, moving restlessly from one end of the room to the other, his hard-won patience strained as he waited for Rus to reemerge. 

Queen Toriel was flipping through a magazine and did not look up as she said, "He may well be a while, Edge, you can sit down."

It was difficult not to pull himself to attention at a mere word from the Queen, though her standards were far more lax than the Guards. Edge did incline his head to her and said politely, "Thank you, your majesty, but if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to stand."

The Queen did look up from her magazine then. Her eyes were a deeper shade of red than his own eye lights and though she seemed ageless to most, it was the depths of her eyes that gave her away. "It is not all the same to me," she said mildly. "You hovering about is making me nervous. Now, make an old woman happy and sit. We both know it takes some time to act as Judge, Jury, and Executioner."

"He's not an executioner," Edge said shortly. Inwardly, he cringed at defying the Queen’s word, but he could not bear remaining silent. "He takes them to one HP. If that's enough for them to dust, then it's the weight of their sins that kill them, not him."

It was something he told Rus often after a Judgement, late at night in the darkness of their rooms when he woke screaming, clutching at him and Red, sobbing from the terrible memories haunting him that were not his own. 

The corner of the Queen’s mouth quirked up and she nodded in acknowledgement, “You’re right, of course. I stand corrected.” She sighed heavily then and set the magazine aside, glossy paper slapping against the tabletop. “No matter how the Judgement ends, it’s difficult for him to manage after, isn’t it.”

It was not a question and Edge did not answer. 

“When we were still Underground there would have been a score of Monsters in your position,” she said, sadly. "Tasked with protecting and caring for our Judge, giving him whatever he requires."

Edge stiffened, said nothing, but Toriel would not have been the leader that she was if not for her shrewdness. She chuckled a bit, retrieving her magazine and opening it to an article about easy dinner recipes as she told him, "Have no fear, I'm not considering anything that might change your arrangement and Rus certainly has no complaints. You were both Chosen and that’s the end of it. I daresay no Judge could ask for better Companions. You and your brother are very dedicated to him."

Edge only offered a curt nod. He had little interest in discussing his relationship with Rus with anyone, even, or perhaps especially, to the Queen.

When the previous Judge passed and Rus was Chosen, what remained of the guard were lined up for a Choosing of their own. They’d all known what the job entailed and while Edge never expected to be Chosen, he’d been ready to service the Judge as required.

He hadn’t been prepared for Rus. Couldn’t have guessed that he’d grow love him as deeply and desperately as he did, soundly rejected the idea of anyone other than himself and Red touching him. The Judge might belong to all Monsters, to the Angel and the Maker, to everyone, but Rus was theirs alone.

The door opening made them both look up as Rus stepped out. No, Edge realized, he was mistaken, it was the Judge who stood before them in incongruous mysticism next to the floral prints on the neutrally painted walls. Utterly emotionless, their voice held none of the vibrancy of Rus, the laughter that was always only a pun away. It was only the Judge who said in low monotone. "It Is Finished."

The Queen stood, but before she could speak, those empty sockets swung to Edge. If they chose, they could see into the very corners of his soul, send every sin he’d ever committed crawling up his spine, pushed him to the very edge of his sanity. 

But their face only softened at the sight of him, moving over him without the weight of Judgement.

“Why are you staring at me?” Edge asked boldly. Some would say suicidally, teetering on the line of horrific disrespect. 

If anything, that look only softened further, “Because We Love You.” 

Then his sockets flickered, pale eye lights reforming to meet Edge's gaze. Only to immediately roll heavenward and Edge lunged forward to catch him as Rus silently folded to the ground. 

The queen took a half-step forward with a sound of concern, reaching out. 

"I have him," Edge said, hoisting Rus into his arms where he hung limply, his skull lolling against Edge’s shoulder.

“Take him back to his rooms,” Toriel said heavily, and ageless was not how anyone would describe her now. In this moment it seemed as if every one of her years was pressing down upon her. “I’ll handle the rest.”

Edge nodded, turning on his heel to carry Rus away. He was always so terribly light; his low HP was one of the marks of his status as Judge, as was the massive amounts of his available magic, a delicate contrast in power and frailness. 

Now he felt almost weightless in Edge's arms, the only heaviness about him were the shadows beneath his sockets. The lone possible saving grace was the lack of dust on the hem of his robes. It could be the one he Judged was still alive, curled up on the floor as they wept beneath the weight of punishment, clinging to the shred of Mercy that allowed them a chance to do better.

The path to their quarters was a direct one with no access for any others. Edge followed it swiftly and the door swung open as he approached, his watchful brother waiting. The moment he walked through, it was closed again, locked and secured; the Judge was never more vulnerable than right after a Judgement. 

Edge kept walking to their bedroom which also served as a saferoom. No one would be getting inside and even if they did, the Angel asked for no punishment for what Edge and Red might do in the name of the Judge. 

Gently, Edge settled Rus on the bed while Red secured the last door, locks and spells settling into place as he asked, "how’s he doin’?" 

"It was a bad one," Edge said gruffly. His unconsciousness was proof of that much. As carefully as he could, Edge began to strip away Rus’s robes. They were easy enough to open despite Rus’s constant complaints about getting tangled up in them. A few simple ties here and there that needed tugged and everything fell open to the bare bones beneath. 

Rus shivered and Edge hastened to pull up the blankets, heavy layers of soft coziness, chosen for precisely this. Behind him, he could hear the clink of cups and water pouring, the clatter of the spoon as Red stirred in a healthy dollop of honey with the ease of long-time experience. 

Rus’s sockets were fluttering as Red brought the cup over, pale eye lights pausing briefly on Edge, then searching out the one he couldn’t see as Rus tried to roll over, slurring out, “red?”

Steaming cup in hand, Red sat on the edge of the mattress, "right here, honey bear."

Rus grimaced a little, “don' like that one.”

“sorry, sweetheart,” Red smoothed a gentle hand down Rus’s skull, his cracked fingers a stark contrast to smooth, untouched bone. “i’ll hafta make a list of pet names for ya to pick through.”

“you only want to know the ones i hate so you can use them the most,” Rus accused. He almost sounded like his normal teasing self. 

“you know me so well,” Red murmured, then louder. “come on, honey, sit up, you need to get somethin’ in you.”

Obediently, Rus did, sipping the tea. As he drank, the blanket slowly slipped down to pool at his pelvis, the tease of it made blatant as he asked, “what if i want something better in me?”

“oh, you are feeling better,” Red chuckled. The two of them moved closer, kneeling on either side of him as Red crooned out, “what do you need, baby?”

"make me feel good." Rus swallowed, a golden flush rising his cheek bones, but he still said, boldly, "both of you. i want both of you. inside me." The delightful mental picture of that made the unsatisfied desire still lingering in Edge’s soul from that afternoon flare hotly, eagerly. 

“Whatever you say,” Edge murmured to him, low and throaty, and when the empty cup slipped from Rus’s limp hold, he caught it and set it aside. 

Rus was still wobbly-weak, an easily maneuverable rag doll that Edge moved and coaxed into sitting on his lap, facing away from him with Rus straddling his femurs. Before he did anything else, Edge settled one hand to rest somewhat chastely on Rus’s iliac crests, away from the honeyed magic beginning to settle into his pelvis. With the other, he took hold of Rus’s chin, turning his head to take a sweetly charged kiss, exploring the plush magic of his mouth with a gentle tongue. 

Their moans were muffled, Rus’s sudden cry caught against Edge’s teeth. Whatever his brother was doing to make the bedsprings creak and Rus squirm must be particularly effective. 

An odd number of hands scrabbled for Edge’s fly in unsteady coordination as they loosened his belt, lowered his zipper. The hand that circled his cock trembled, cool, slim fingers drawing him out, guiding him to where Rus is already wet and waiting, his entrance clenching emptily as Edge nudged his way inside. 

Tight, wet heat surrounded him and Edge fought for control, resisting the urge to pull Rus fiercely down on his cock, to force his hips to move, riding him relentlessly until Rus cried out, begging and pleading for more as the garbled mess of his words dissolved into incoherent cries. He’d asked for both of them and Edge would give him what he asked for, whatever Rus asked of them. 

Halfway inside, Edge paused, licking his teeth and tasting his own sweat as Rus tightened briefly around him, as if his pussy was asking for more without consulting Rus about it. Instead of obliging, Edge reached between Rus’s legs to trace where they were joined. Slickness was trickling down and Edge wetted his fingers, carefully pressing one alongside his cock. The increasing tightness made him groan aloud and even though he knew very intimately otherwise, for a moment it seemed as though even his slender finger won’t fit, much less another cock. He traced the slippery lips coaxingly, persuading them to relax enough for him to push in.

In his lap, Rus sighed and squirmed, his pussy tightening and loosening infinitesimally as Edge inched his finger inside. 

Only for his brother to interrupt. His varied skills at patience didn’t tend to extend to Rus and he interjected lazily, “let me, bro.”

Another finger joined his own with far less care, pushing almost roughly inside and Rus cried out, hands scrambling to clutch at Edge’s knees and Edge would have glared at Red for it if he wasn’t abruptly struggling for his own control, trying desperately not to come as Rus panted and whimpered, his pelvis moving helplessly between Edge’s cock and their moving fingers. 

It was a difficult stretch, working up a bit more space inside the achingly tight passage. Honey-gold ectoflesh slowly yielding until both their fingers glided with ease. 

“think that’s enough, sweetheart.” Red was panting heavily, and Edge wasn’t sure if he truly thought Rus was opened enough to take them both or if he simply couldn’t wait any longer, but Edge didn’t ask, his own limit fast approaching. He pulled out his finger with a slick, obscene sound as Red arranged himself, his bare legs settling overtop of Edge’s as he lined up and began to push in. 

The sudden increase of pressure around him made Edge grit his teeth, focusing on holding Rus upright as he whimpered. Rus spread his femurs wider as if he could make more space inside himself that way while Red struggled to force his shaft inside. 

There was a round of gasps as the head of his cock pried its way in, the rest of the shaft following abruptly as Red thrust in deeply, then stilled. The three of them sat together, Edge and Red petting Rus’s sweat-slick bones, struggling out soothing words as Rus trembled between them, his face screwed up in a twisted rictus of pain and pleasure. It was difficult to think with the incredible tightness squeezing his cock, the first warnings of orgasm tingling at the base of his spine, and yet, Edge tried, focusing on anything else, on the scraping pressure of his brother’s legs over his own, the prickle of sweat trailing like sins down his spine, fuck, he’d be willing to think of Toriel and her endless teasing of Rus if it helped him keep control. 

His patience was well-learned, but it was straining at the end of its leash, even as the pressure surrounding him slowly eased.

“i think…i think i’m okay,” Rus finally whispered. He squirmed a bit, testing, then with almost desperate deliberateness, his pelvis rocking between them as he groaned out, “oh! oh, fuck, yes, please!”

Edge’s position was a difficult one, with Rus and Red’s weight both pinning them down. He was forced to depend on his brother moving, drawing slowly out then back in, finding a rhythm that left Rus quickly trembling on the crest of orgasm, frantic cries spilling into the air around them.

Edge was no better off. The friction of his brother's cock moving against his own was exquisite, unbearable, dragging along the length of his shaft, ridged heads briefly rubbing even as Red thrust back into Rus’s wet, clenching heat. The raggedness of his breathing was loud inside his skull and Edge could only hold on to them both, dimly unaware of whose bones he was gripping painfully as Rus’s cunt went tight around him, rippling and throbbing excruciatingly as he peaked. 

He wasn’t going to last, Edge realized abruptly, it was too much, his control was slippery and lost, and he could only groan plaintively, breath hissing between his teeth as he screwed his sockets closed and came into the gloriously hot, wet grip of Rus’s pussy. Bones clattered as he was wracked with a shock of purest bliss, trying to thrust up, to get even deeper despite the weight pinning him.

“oh, fuck,” Red gasped out and even caught up as he was in overwhelming sensation, Edge dimly understood. The heat of his come filling Rus’s pussy was another layer of sensation, leaving him drenched and loosened as Edge’s shaft softened inside him even as Red moved brutally faster. 

Barely, he had enough coherence left to fumble a hand between Rus’s spread femurs, feeling down between his legs for the swollen nub of his clit to circle with his thumb. Rus quivered in his arms and he felt back further, careless fingers exploring where Red was still frantically thrusting. A mischievous urge struck him, and Edge circled the base of the shaft with his thumb and forefinger, gripping hard. Immediately, his brother cursed explosively, and Edge felt it both from the inside and out as Red pushed in deeply and held, the blossoming heat of his come spurting thickly against Edge’s shaft making him hiss. 

Between them, Rus was sobbing, pleading as he struggled to reach another crest. Red reached for his clit even as Edge guiltily redoubled his efforts, their slippery fingers moving in tandem, exhausted and knowing. It was enough. Rus’s fingers dug into Edge’s femurs painfully, scraping bone even through trousers as his pussy throbbed, tightening almost painfully around overstimulated ectoflesh as he tipped over in a last orgasm. 

He slumped almost immediately, held up only by Edge and Red’s arms, barely sighing as they both carefully withdrew and settled him to lay back on the sheets. There were soft cloths on the side table and a bowl of water set into a warmer. Between them, they cleaned the mess from Rus’s bones, tenderly wiping away sweat and the kaleidoscope spatter of their mingled fluids. 

Edge thought he was already asleep, any lingering sign of the Judge clinging to him fucked away, and it was only when Rus spoke that he realized otherwise, his voice small and uncertain. 

“if i asked you two to kiss, would you?”

The question made Edge still, setting the damp cloth aside as he looked into Rus’s blushing face. His sockets were scrunched deliberately closed, refusing to open even as Edge gently stroked his brow and cheek bones.

He looked at his brother instead, sitting on Rus’s other side. His expression was cool and unreadable, offering him nothing. 

“Is that what you want?” Edge asked neutrally. He would, if Rus wished it. He had no particular objection to it; they’d known from the start what this involved. The awkwardness surrounding it had long since faded and truth be told, he loved to watch Red with Rus as he pleasured him with tongue and cock, and knew the sentiment was one Red returned. Sharing Rus was a unique delight, in every form of the word. But while touching each other was perfectly acceptable, neither was it something they usually sought without Rus between them.

“no,” Rus said hurriedly, though it was still too small, too soft. “i only wondered—"

“honey love,” Red interrupted, “i love my bro, but it ain’t the same way as you. i wanna see him fucking you, don’t really want that so much for myself.” Confirming Red felt as he did. Then he surprised Edge by saying. “but i think we can manage a kiss if you want that for your spank bank.”

Rus swallowed audibly, his sockets creeping open. He was obviously wavering between his hopeful wants and his fears that he was asking for something that they didn’t truly want to give. They’d given vows to provide him with whatever he wished, to meet all of his desires, and that was exactly what Rus did not want from them. That truth was only one of many that left Edge helpless against loving him.

He threaded his fingers through Rus’s, bringing their entwined hands up to his mouth to gently kiss his knuckles reassuringly, trying without words to tell him that this wasn’t too much to ask. 

Rus still wavered, blinking too hard and too often, before finally giving in, whispering out, “please?”

Anything for you, Edge did not say. He turned to his brother, who was kneeling bare bones on Rus’s other side, his compact frame deliberately relaxed and revealing nothing of the coiled strength held within it. His razor-toothed mouth was quirked in a knowing smile, sockets hooded, and he didn’t move a single inch, forcing Edge to lean in and duck his head to kiss him. 

Navigating both their sharp teeth was something of a challenge, but one easily managed, tongues gliding cautiously against each other. His brother tasted of Rus, cloyingly sweet, and beneath it, the earthier spice of his own magic surfaced like a taunt. Almost, Edge wanted to chase that taste, to delve into his brother’s mouth and find more, untainted by Rus’s sweetness. 

He resisted the urge. This was for Rus, their Rus, he was watching, and Edge only lingered briefly, boldly sweeping his tongue over Red’s to steal a last discreet taste before drawing away. Their eye lights met in a brief glance before hurrying back to Rus. 

Edge cleared his throat, “Was that what you wanted?”

“yeah,” Rus breathed, staring with greedily wide sockets. He blinked, sheepishness flitting across his face, “and if i wasn’t so tired, i’d ask for a kiss of my own.”

Red chuckled and leaned in, brushing his mouth over Rus’s and lingering when his teeth parted. Edge did not wonder if his brother tasted of him, only watched until they reluctantly parted, Red murmuring, “take a nap, butter bear, and when ya wake up, we’ll kiss ya wherever ya want.”

“what does butter bear even mean?” Rus mumbled, but the words were split by an enormous yawn. He reached out for them, hands limply hopeful and they both settled on either side of him, arms settling in a loose tangle as they held him close. 

Soon, he slept, his breathing slow and even. Edge lay next to him, awake, and knew his brother was as well, curled up against Rus’s other side. They’d sleep later, when Rus was rested and less vulnerable. He could only hope that there would be no nightmares this time, a tenuous wish for peaceful sleep for his love. 

But as he lay there in the dark, Edge couldn’t help wondering what other things Rus might like to see, if he were bold enough to ask. 

-fin


	4. Musically Inclined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red isn't supposed to wake up with his Judge missing from his bed, thanks. Guess he should do something about that.

* * *

It was too fucking early in the am to be awake. 

Even Edge was still asleep, and he always got up about half-past the asscrack of dawn to go for a run. The space in the bed between them that Rus usually occupied was empty and had been for long enough that they’d drifted closer, practically cuddling together. Red didn’t have a problem with that, exactly, hell, his bro was toasty at night, their own personal bedwarmer. Except that Rus was _supposed_ to be there. Not off getting into shit on his own. 

Little brat was slippery as an eel when he wanted to be and he’d slithered off fuck knew when, damn him. Red was always reluctantly impressed whenever he made one of his escapes, but damn it, one of these days he was going to turn their lanky little brat over his fucking knee. The point of them being around was to keep his bony ass safe, not because he and Edge felt like crawling up it. 

Well. Not all the time. 

Luckily, Red knew a trick or two of his own. He managed to escape from Sir Clings-A-Lot over there and wasn’t Edge gonna be pissed when he woke up alone? That was a problem for Future Red to deal with, Right Now Red had a brat to find. 

It was kinda a relief and a disappointment that he didn’t have to go far. 

Their living quarters were expansive, as they fucking well should be for the Judge and his Chosen. Large, airy rooms with plenty of wide sofas and squashy chairs, perfect for napping and cuddling, and scotch-guarded within an inch of their lives for any time they needed to handle their Official Duties. A television with all the best tech hooked up, movies and games, everything anyone needed for electronic entertainment. There was a well-equipped kitchen that Edge usually put to good use. Not only because his high HP made checking the ingredient for any tampering a cinch, but if Red and Rus were stuck cooking, they’d be living on frozen waffles and pop tarts. A bathroom with a hot tub big enough for a double orgy if Red wasn’t more inclined to ripping body parts off anyone who even gave Rus a nudge, much less tried to get a peek at what he was hiding under those flowy robes.

The only thing it didn’t have were many windows. No skylights, no big ol’ panes of glass to let in all the golden sunshine. There were plenty of overhead lamps to make up for it, it wasn’t a lack of light that was the problem for their honey. Their suite only had one picture window, complete with a window seat and that was where Rus was sitting, a burning cigarette held between two fingers. 

He looked alright, considering he’d given a Judgement yesterday. No lingering shadows beneath his sockets, his magic glowing softly, healthily, in his joints. Rus was only wearing a tank top and a pair of pajama pants that prolly belonged to Edge from the way they were sagging off him, willowy thing that he was. Bare, bony feet sticking out of the too-short legs and from the way his toes were starting to curl, they were cold. No wonder, the curtains were drawn back and one of the windowpanes was cracked open, wide enough for Rus to tap the ash outside. 

Rus didn't smoke often these days. Said all the Monsters out there looking up to him didn't like the idea of an avatar of the Angel carrying around a pack of Marlboro's. Far as Red was concerned, they didn't know what they were missing, and he was just fine with that. Rus smoked like there was only one thing he knew what to do with his mouth and the way his tongue curled behind his teeth, mouth pursing as he blew out a cloud of pale smoke was its own form of divinity.

Red climbed up to sit across from him, stretching out his much shorter legs alongside Rus's so that his foot was pressed lightly to the inside of one femur. He held out his hand and Rus handed over the pack wordlessly, offering the lighter when Red shook one out. 

He made a show of lighting it first, inhaling a drag of hot smoke and breathing it out with, "ain't supposed to be over here alone, sweets."

Rus shrugged, but his mouth thinned, teeth tightening around the filter. "i'm fine."

Wasn't even close to the point and Rus knew it. Red let it drop, this time. The glass was bulletproof and if a sniper could manage to bend a bullet enough to hit Rus in the brain pan through the narrow, opened pane, then having an entire fleet of guards around wouldn't make much difference. 

They smoked together in silence, watching as the paling darkness slowly brightened, the sun climbing back over the horizon. Red could still remember seeing his first sunrise, standing cliffside along with the other lower guard, his brother at his side as he watched all those unknown colors as they streaked across the sky. Didn’t think he’d ever get tired of watching ‘em. 

He wondered where Rus was in those days. Rus didn’t talk much about before he was a Judge other than saying flatly that he was nobody. Couldn’t be that simple, though. The Queen knew him back then, had to be some kind of story there. 

But then, Red had his own reasons for not thinking much about the old days, a fact that came out and bit him on the coccyx when Rus chose to speak again. 

"do you remember when we were kids?" Rus said, softly. His face was turned towards the window, pale eye lights watching the bright disk of the sun as it crested. "before we came to the surface?” He shook his head with a soft laugh. “remember all the trouble we used to get into with grillby in those days, we’re lucky we got out alive."

Red took a steadying drag off his cigarette, ignored the painful lurch in his soul as he breathed it out. "yeah, i remember. wasn't you, though, honey."

He didn’t know how to decipher the little smile that curved Rus’s mouth, secretive as Mona Lisa’s twin brother. 

Usually, Red could get a pretty good read on people, but eh, most people weren’t a Judge, now were they. Those pale eye lights didn’t gutter out, his voice was only his own, only Rus as he said, "it was, a little. a part of me, anyway. do you ever wish you’d had a chance for him to choose you instead of me?"

Yeah, that was a land mine question wasn’t it, and Red had a foot firmly on top. 

Red loved Rus and didn't have a problem telling him. He'd whisper it against the side of his skull, breathe it into his mouth, spell it with his tongue against his cunt, shout it at a fucking press conference if that was what needed to be done. It was the truth and he wasn't gonna deny Rus for anything. But some things weren't up for discussion and some answers shouldn’t ever hit air. 

"don't," Red said gently. His ciggie was burned almost to the filter and he took another drag anyway, tasted bitter, burning cellulose. “don't do any good to think about the past, anyway."

"heh, i spend half my life living in the past." But Rus sat up straighter, tamped out the butt into the ashtray and that unpleasantly unreadable look turned to one that Red knew all too well, playfully mischievous. "now is pretty good time to be in, though. you want me to suck you off?"

His cock surged to form before Rus even finished the last word and Red was already kicking off his shorts. "you ever need to ask?"

There was something about seeing Rus on his knees. He lived in symbiosis with the Judge, he was an avatar for the Angel herself. And yet here he was, kneeling before Red as if _he_ was something to revere, not some thug who managed to wrangle a place in the guard, tricked and tripped his way up the ladder until it came time for a Choosing. 

Both Rus’s hands were on Red’s femurs, holding them apart as his thumbs stroking the insides absently, but that wasn’t the real show. His face, now, that was where it was. Sockets closed, his expression one of the purest bliss while he sucked luxuriously, worshiping Red with his mouth, _fuck_. Like an obscene sheath around his cock, soft and plush, lined with velvety golden magic and his formed tongue curled around the shaft, the tip teasing at the head. 

Rus hadn’t always been so good at this; once he’d been a flustered virgin, not knowing how to ask for what he needed and more than a little desperate not to take anything they weren’t willing to offer. He and Edge spent a good amount of time diligently training that out of him. Gone were the days of accidental teeth scrapes and awkward choking, one time even a genuine bite from a nervous beginner. Nowadays Rus went down like an expert and Red could only bite back a groan and let the student take over as the master, watching greedily. 

Gorgeous bastard. There wasn’t a thing in the entire fucking world Red wouldn’t give Rus, no dust he wouldn’t grind into his hands for the chance to watch this, the slow glide of his dick in and out of Rus’s mouth, crimson ectoflesh glistening wetly between thrusts and a thin rill of that golden saliva trailing down Rus’s chin. 

Fucking gorgeous was what he was and Red wiped away that thread of wetness with his thumb, raised it up to lick it clean, filling his mouth with the taste of Rus’s sweetness. 

Barely, Rus’s sockets slit open, pale eye lights flicking up to watch Red’s face and he wondered vaguely at what Rus saw there. Whatever it was, he liked it, humming appreciatively, and the vibration made Red gasp, knees jackknifing against Rus’s grip, trying to clutch against his skull as Red hunched over him. 

“you little shit,” Red groaned out and fuck, he could _feel_ that chuckle, didn’t do him no favors when it came to stamina, neither. Didn’t have much as it was and none at all against this brat’s teasing. 

He heard the footsteps before Rus did, but that was his job, even when he was balls-deep into his Judge’s throat. His brother came around the corner, fucking _finally_ some back up. Still in his own pajamas, black silk of course, pretentious fucker, but he froze at the sight of them, his eye lights flaring. 

Maybe it was Edge’s indrawn breath Rus heard, maybe the clatter of his phalanges as they clenched into fists. Whatever it was, he paused, sockets widening as he started to pull off, and nope, that wasn’t on the agenda. Red set a hand on the back of his skull and pushed hard, forced him back down until he was swallowing desperately against the pressure of a cockhead against the back of his throat. 

That little move got him a scowl from Edge that Red met with a smirk. He wasn’t hurting Rus none and if his bro wanted to stop him, all he needed to do was come on over and join the fun. 

From the way his hands were jerking at the ties of his pants, that was pretty much the idea. 

Red let Rus strain a minute longer, his breaths coming in frantic little puffs through his nasal cavity, fingers clenched tight in the window seat cushion. Then he let up and Rus drew back enough to glare up a Red, those pretty, pale eye lights tinging towards gold that was as bright as the sunlight filtering through the window. Heh, didn’t escape his notice that Rus didn’t pull off completely and the curling flex of his tongue made for one hell of a distraction. Red stroked a hand across Rus’s skull apologetically, taking care with his sharpened fingertips as he murmured, "don’t move, sweetheart.”

He didn’t, kneeling obediently still and his sockets went wide as Edge’s hands settled on his pelvis, gently drawing him up until it was nicely positioned with Rus’s hands braced on the floor for balance. His loose pajama pants were tugged easily down to his knees and Red couldn’t get a good angle to see what his bro was doing, but when Rus made a high, startled sound, the fresh vibration around his cock made Red groan, trying not to come right then. 

He could hear the slick sound of his brother's fingers moving. No surprise there, Rus was probably already soaking wet, the inside of his femurs painted with it and his clit swollen and sensitive to even the lightest touch. Kid had to get fucked, that was simply part of who he was. What made it even better was that he fucking _loved_ it, wasn’t any virgin left to their sweet little Judge these days, but a hot, lovely blush still flooded his cheekbones as Edge fingered him, whispering encouragingly, “That’s it, love, you’re so wet, so perfect. Relax now, let me in.”

Rus’s hips were shifting, flexing, trying to ride whatever rhythm those fingers were following, senseless little sounds gurgling in his cock-filled throat turning to whimpers of dismay when they withdrew. 

“hang on, honey,” Red told him breathlessly, fucking hell, he was getting too close, they needed to hurry it up or this spitroast was gonna turn into a duet. “hang on, let him get his cock in you.” The shush of Rus’s knees was loud against the rug as he spread his femurs as wide as he could with those loose pajama pants of his still tangled around his legs. 

"Shift up, love," Edge murmured. His cock was out now, Edge stroking himself generously until deep crimson pre-cum gleamed at the tip. All ready to fill their honey up and it was worth watched Edge's face as he lined up and sank into him, fuck yeah. Made for a hell of a show the way his expression tightened, mouth falling open, sockets squeezing shut and revealing more than his bro probably realized. It was good to see, some resentful little part of Red glad that he wasn’t the only one utterly absorbed by this brat. 

Rus’s rhythm got lost somewhere in the middle, his mouth going slack around Red’s shaft. That was okay, couldn’t blame him for being a lil’ distracted with his bro filling him to the brim with dick. The angle wasn’t a good one for Red to get a peek, but it was a sight he’d seen before, his bro was packing a formidable piece and he went in deep, their pelvises clacking together on the first hard thrust.

Rus wasn’t even sucking anymore, tears and drool running down his face in thin, golden streaks but Red didn’t mind taking over. He gripped Rus’s jaw in both hands to hold his head steady on his wobbly neck as Red fucked that pretty face, rode the soft, plush tongue that wound around his shaft.

So fucking worth it, Rus struggling to take him, trying to follow along, but he and Edge were running the show now. Fucking was like making a song, the slick sound of Edge’s cock moving in that tight pussy matched to the messy slurps of Rus struggling to swallow Red down, with a chorus of Rus whimpering and pleading in gurgling cries. All those harsh, obscene noises building up into a shatteringly vulgar crescendo.

There was a choice to be made, face or swallow, and Red grunted out a curse as he pushed in deep, holding Rus’s head down as he came down his formed throat with a hot spill of burning seed. Some part of Rus must’ve liked that, the taste of cum or the rough handling, ‘cause he shuddered and came too, his groans sweet and muffled, as guttural thick in his throat as the cum he was swallowing down. 

Distantly, Red could hear Edge groaning, too, probably decorating their pretty honey’s cunt and thighs with his own shade of crimson, but right then, it was all white-hot sensation and losing himself, losing little pieces of himself to Rus the way he always did. 

S’alright. Rus already had a pretty firm hold on his soul. May as well let him keep the rest. 

-finis-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hj_skb did some gorgeous art for this on twitter! [ Check it out here!!](https://twitter.com/hj_skb/status/1249222532286251008)


	5. Lest You Be Judged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge and Red are Chosen, their vows are sworn not only to Rus, but to the Judge, and the Judge is inclined to stake their claim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we have violence (not towards each other), character death, (not any of our boys!!), and some rough, dominating sex. You want some of that? Come on in!

* * *

He felt it only seconds before it struck. The ripple of virulent Intent suddenly gushing around them and there was no time for thought, only reaction that had been trained in Edge from the moment he learned to summon an attack. 

“DOWN!" Edge shouted and pushed Rus down to the floor, flattening him to the ground as he covered Rus with his own body and a shield of energy. Even through the shielding he could feel the sear of an attack landing above them, right where Rus had been innocently standing only moments ago.

* * *

_Five Minutes Earlier_

It was a Tuesday and today was a rare occasion when Rus was allowed to go to the Embassy cafeteria for a meal. Such a normal task that any other Monster wouldn’t give a second thought about required heightened security and careful planning when it came to the Judge. Gone were the days where Rus could stroll casually around the building and the city, and few would guess how much their Judge missed those small freedoms. Something as simple as ordering a cup of coffee without having to allow Red or Edge sip from it first or going to the midnight showing of a new blockbuster movie was as lost to him as everything else from his past life.

Rus understood the limitations he existed under and didn’t ask for such things often, but when he did, Edge was weak to that soft, yearning request. A moment of normalcy, that was what Rus craved, even if it was only the illusion of one.

Embassy workers were given notice days in advance, the kitchens were limited to only the most trusted and properly screen cooks. Most of the people eating in the cafeteria in that hour span were in the Royal Guard and if Rus noticed, he sustained a remarkably naïve expression about it, smiling and nodding at any greetings, all of which were kept to the barest minimum as the diners were warned against any overt expressions of worship or prayers. 

Rus took a tray from the stack like any other Monster, his plain daily robes sweeping the floor as he contemplated over the day’s choices. 

“mac and cheese or mashed potatoes?” Rus mused. Neither Red nor Edge took a tray, as Red preferred to steal from Rus’s plates and Edge would have refused to eat the greasy monstrosities at the cafeteria before he was ever Chosen.

“get both,” Red shrugged, “ain’t like you can’t afford the tab.”

“Neither and get a salad,” Edge retorted. “I wouldn’t consider either of those a nutritious side dish.”

“mac and cheese and a salad,” Rus decided. He picked up each and added them to his tray. “does that make you happy?”

Red swiped his bony finger through the whipped cream on the slice of pie that joined the rest on Rus’s tray, licking it clean. “honey love, i’m always happy with you.”

“On that my brother and I are in agreement,” Edge said, his voice pitched low enough that only the two people closest to him in all ways could hear it. He wasn’t often demonstrative in public, but the reward was a pretty blush warming Rus’s cheek bones. Rus often liked to nap after his meals and Edge was about to suggest they return to their quarters when he was finished for a different sort of entertainment when he felt it.

_Intent._

“DOWN!” Edge shouted, pushing Rus to the floor. The tray flew from his hands, dishes breaking and splatters of macaroni and pie colorfully decorating the tiles. He crawled on top of Rus, summoning the bubble of a shield around them even as the attack washed overhead, so close he could feel the searing heat against his back even through the heavy layer of his magic. Glass shattered and pebbles of it rained down on them, fragments bouncing away. 

Another attack and the room shook, more dishes clattering to the floor, screams as others fled the cafeteria where moments before they’d been enjoying a peaceful lunch. The sounds of a pitched battle rose around them. Edge could hear his brother screaming obscenities, his magic viciously pitted against their attackers and where was the rest of the fucking guard? Edge was useless to him as backup, he could only hunker over Rus, holding his struggling body down with his heavier weight. 

Beneath him, Rus was wailing, “red! edge, let me up, he needs help!”

“I’m not moving,” Edge snarled back, “stay down!”

“please!” he begged, but Edge was unmoved. He was Chosen, as was Red, this was their duty and he would see it done. 

An attack thudded into the ground close to Edge’s shoulder, barely diverted under a wave of bones. Edge ducked his head down, tasting his own sweat as it ran down his face. Magic shielding was absolute, they weren’t getting any air and the bubble around them was heating rapidly. Beneath him, Rus was panting, trapped beneath his weight, and their clothing where his back was mashed beneath Edge’s front was soaked with sweat. 

“please, no,” Rus sobbed, sagging into the floor and Edge couldn’t allow it to distract him. He turned his head enough to catch a glimpse of the furious battle raging around them. Through the overturned tables and the sprawl of bodies he could see the familiar pattern of his brother’s attacks against their unknown assailants, mingled with foul curses hurled back and forth. He calculated there were at least three attackers and even as he watched, one of them took a sharpened bone through the eye, blood spraying even as they shivered to dust. 

Two remaining and he couldn’t see Red, his brother was concealed behind a flipped over table. His attacks were slowing, Red was strong, but he had little stamina, he needed to finish this, quickly. A second assailant screamed as they were pierced through by a fan of sharpened bones, the splattering gore puffing to dust in the air. 

One left. The attacks were faltering, the pattern of bones growing sloppier. Red was wearing out and the rest of the Royal guard was down, injured or dead, he didn’t know, and Edge couldn’t help him, he couldn’t shield and attack, and Rus couldn’t be risked. 

_Come on, brother, come on,_ Edge chanted in his own mind. _Eliminate him!_

Instead, he heard a sharp cry in his brother’s voice, and Edge pushed away all emotion, the thread of his own fear unraveling as he braced to go on the offensive. The shielding around them shattered, the unpleasant backlash of a broken spell choking him even as he was dragged away from Rus and Edge was already reaching for an attack when he realized it wasn’t their assailant who had a hold of him. " **That's Enough!** "

That voice boomed through the room, the remaining glassware shattering under its force. Edge managed to lift his head and there were no darkened, empty sockets in the being that stood before him. Their sockets blazed with burning light and Edge had to look away, cringing from the glorious power radiating off him, ancient and ethereal. 

The entire room went ghostly still, the silence broken only by the groans of wounded guards. The Judge moved and their feet didn’t seem to touch the ground. They glided over to where the last attacker was hidden behind a splintered table, other broken furniture sliding out of their path untouched. They reached out, fingers curling as they took hold of the last one, dragging him out by his very soul as he snarled and struggled. His blood was a rich green, dripping from various cuts and soaking into his torn shirt, pattering in rounded droplets to the floor like a scattering of coins. 

Edge knew him, he realized with a jolt. Jaime, a Monster who’d joined the guard at the same time as Edge and left it before they came to the surface, before everything. Jaime abandoned his post when Toriel ascended the throne, spat on the ground at the very mention of her name. Intel stated he’d joined a group of dissidents calling themselves the Acolytes of Asgore and any information past that was sparse. Asgore was dead, dust, but it didn't stop these fools from rebelling against their Queen and her attempts to find peace for them. He didn’t know how they’d gotten past Embassy security. The only reason that made sense was a spy within their ranks; they’d need to go on lock-down until they discovered the truth, run a series of background checks to see who was not as they seemed.

His thoughts raced as Edge watched the scene before him, the rising halo of golden light surrounding the Judge. He should look away, he didn’t want to see this, had never seen it. He didn’t want to see and yet, Edge stood and watched, squinting against the light, his sockets burning as he took it in.

He’d always supposed it would be horrifying to witness, that the Judge might take on some eldritch appearance, siphoning away HP as Karmic Retribution took the Judged down to one HP.

The truth was very nearly a letdown. The Judge only reached out and lightly touched Jaime's forehead, his chin, then his chest, fingers brushing across the front of his shirt directly over his soul. 

Jaime’s dark, hateful eyes clouded over, hazed to gray as he stared at nothing with his mouth agape, his gaze focusing inward. Those milky eyes filled with tears, wet and staring as he was Judged.

“Oh, my Lord,” Jaime whispered. Those tears brimmed, running from the corners of his eyes, gathering to drip from his chin. “I hurt so many people. Why? So many people hurt and dead, innocents, they didn’t deserve that. I could have done so many good things and all I did was hurt. I could do so much more.”

“Yes,” the Judge whispered, “You Feel It, Don’t You? We Are All A Part Of This World, All Of Us, Together.”

“I feel it,” Jaime wept, “by the Angel’s grace, I feel it I…!” He grunted suddenly, surprised, words trailing away as he looked down in confusion at the crimson bone protruding from the center of his chest, directly into his soul. His expression fell to anguish even as his outline diminished, falling to the ground as dust.

A few feet away, Red swayed on his feet, panting as he leaned against the splintered remains of a chair with one eye strobing crimson. There was a fresh crack over the darkened eye socket, dripping marrow running in.

“tough shit, asshole,” Red growled. “you had your chance.”

The Judge rounded on Red furiously, the halo of light flaring with the blistering heat of the sun’s corona. "Why Did You Do That? He Was Judged!"

Red only stared doggedly into that unearthly fury with his own. "you do your judgements and i do mine," Red snarled. "he tried to kill you. no one gets a second shot at it, i don’t give a shit what sunshine and fucking rainbows their soul pukes out after!”

With slow, cautious steps Edge moved silently to stand by his brother, facing the Judge’s fury unflinchingly. It would be the grossest of lies to say that he was not afraid, but he wouldn’t let his brother stand alone. 

The Judge’s jaw worked, the aura surrounding them flaring brighter, until Edge was forced to look away, his watering sockets streaming from the brilliance. 

Then the golden light was abruptly doused, leaving the room chilled in its absence. The Judge turned, their robes sweeping against the floor in a tinkle of broken glass. 

"Attend Me,” they said, shortly, and strode away. Towards the elevators and despite his confusion, Edge went. He could hear another security team coming in behind them amidst the groans and whimpers of the surviving guards, but no one tried to intervene, no one spoke to them or questioned what happened. They could watch the security feed for their answers, for now. 

Edge followed them into the elevator, Red at his heels. The door closing and Edge hardly had time to contemplate the discomfort of being trapped in an enclosed space with such power crackling over him like so much static when the Judge abruptly pushed the stop button. 

There was no time to ask or even think as unnaturally strong hands took hold of him, Edge’s breath jarred out of him in a rush as the Judge pushed him roughly against the wall. Their face was barely an inch from Edge’s, Rus’s face though Rus never looked at him that way, never with such raw, pure hunger, dredged from primordial depths as they breathed out, "We Need You." 

Edge swallowed hard against the sudden knot in his throat. They had never, never like this. "But you’re--"

"We _Need_ You." Insistently, a mouth suddenly hot and wet against his cervical vertebrae and when Edge didn't reply, only hung trembling in his grip, they drew back, uncertainty creasing their face, the Judge's face, but also Rus, always Rus. "Do You Not Want--?"

Edge took a breath, steadying himself, and pulled them down. This was Rus, who was as much the Judge as the Judge was him. He’d sworn an oath before the Angel, the Queen, and the Judge, and he would not break it. He pressed their mouths together in a light kiss, each touch careful and submissive as he murmured, "Whatever you want. Anything. I'm yours."

But he couldn’t help shuddering, sharpened fingertips gouging into the side of the elevator as strong arms hooked under his legs, pulling him off his feet. Bracing his shoulders against the wall as a slim, lithe body insinuated itself between his legs, rubbing their pelvises together through layers of cloth. A slippery tongue investigated his clavicles, delving underneath to slide against his sternum from within his rib cage as they mumbled out, pleadingly. "Let Me Have You, I Need To Be Inside You, All Of You.” 

They'd never done that, not since Edge was chosen. Rus made it clear from the beginning that he preferred being the penetrated partner. But Edge didn't hesitate, already forming a cunt for him, the slickened folds clinging uncomfortably at the crotch of his trousers. The issue resolved itself quickly. His trousers weren’t ripped free so much as they simply ceased to exist and the hands holding him up were gone, yet he stayed where he was, braced against the wall, hanging as though gravity ceased to apply. 

Blunt fingers pressed between his legs, recklessly parting the lips of his pussy and Edge couldn’t hold back a gasp as they pushed inside. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself not to tense at the unfamiliar sensation. Knuckles scraped his walls as they moved in him, scissoring impatiently inside him, invading him and working him open. Despite everything, anything, it didn’t hurt, the thrust of those fingers got easier as it went on and on. No matter what his head thought of this, his pussy seemed to be in agreement, getting even wetter and the obscenity of the slick sounds from the Judge’s fingers moving inside him was humiliatingly loud.

He didn’t realize the exact moment he went from enduring to pleasure. But suddenly those twisting fingers glided over a place inside him that felt incredible, a lightning shock of unexpected arousal trembling through him. A shocked sound gurgled from his throat and Edge clung to whatever he could reach, the wall, the Judge’s shoulders, clutching as his hips lurched into that touch. 

Breathy laughter, hot against his cervical vertebrae and the sound was richly amused, holding emotions that Edge didn’t dare contemplate. He could only writhe in between the body pressed tight against his own and the wall, broken fragments of pleading falling wordless from his mouth as he thrashed. The crest of orgasm was barely out of his desperate reach when those long fingers withdrew and his cry of betrayal choked off as he felt a larger, harder pressure against him, the head of a cock prying its way inside the narrow passage. 

It didn't hurt, it was only so much, too much. His pussy stretched to accept the wide girth of the shaft, achingly huge inside him and Edge tipped his head back, stared sightlessly up at the glaring fluorescent lights as he was taken. It didn’t hurt, didn’t, only it was so _much_ and he was barely accustomed to having it inside him when that cock withdrew, leaving him yearning and empty. 

And came back, faster, again, the Judge grunting low and deep as they found a rhythm, every sound greedy and desperate, driving in, pistoning inside him. The power coming off of them was almost unbearable, scorching over Edge like the backlash of an explosion. His own mana felt like it was boiling inside his bones and he wondered deliriously if it was possible to be fucked to death. 

A small, scarred hand took his own and Edge gripped it mindlessly. To his dim surprise, that feeling from before was rising again, his pussy tightening, rippling as the slippery friction of the Judge’s cock moving within him made him gasp and writhe. Tears were stinging hot on his face, running down bittersweet into the corners of his mouth and he couldn’t control it, it felt like that pleasure traveled directly from his cunt to his soul in a jolt of brutal lightning. He arched as he came, clawing at whatever was beneath his hands, the sensation too intense to call it merely pleasure, ecstasy cushioned with near pain. 

Through the haze of his own orgasm, he heard the Judge hiss agonizingly through their teeth. Thrusting in deep as they came inside him, filling Edge with the obscene wetness of their come as they stilled, holding deep inside Edge as they shuddered and quaked, soothed his aching pussy with spurts of sticky liquid warmth. 

The sensation of power prickling over him faded, dimmed, as they both slid down the wall to the floor in a clatter of bones. It seemed strange for the Judge to be so light on top of him; somehow Edge expected them to weight more, the burden added to Rus’s very bones. 

They lay in a panting tangle and Edge only opened his sockets when a thumb swept across his cheek bone, a failed attempt at wiping away his tears. Red was crouched next to him, his gaze absurdly gentle. 

"hey,” Red said, softly. The hand touching Edge’s face was dotted with bleeding punctures where Edge’s sharpened fingertips had dug in at the moment of climax. “you gotta get up, i can't carry ya both."

That fading power surged back with a suddenness that made Edge cringe from the renewed tidal wave of force. Above him, the Judge’s head jerked up, the blaze of light igniting again in their sockets. 

"No,” the Judge said, and Edge could feel the word vibrating within his joints. "You're Mine As Well."

He lunged, dragging Red beneath him and Edge could only watch dazedly, his legs still sprawled awkwardly apart and the cooling wetness of come leaking down his femurs to puddle beneath him. 

If his brother was shocked or afraid, none of it showed on his face, he only relaxed back against the hard floor, his smirk the same as he always wore. “fucking right i'm yours. do what you gotta do, honey, i'm ready.”

A low, hungry sound came from the Judge and then they were on him. 

Edge had watched the two of them together before, countless times. Never had it been like this, his brother’s hands pinned back against the floor by nothingness, his clothing torn away by unseen forces. He spread his knees wide on his own, the shoes he was incongruously still wearing braced against the floor. The Judge was still wearing the remains of their robes, fouled with come and marrow, torn open from the collarbone to the hem as he settled between Red’s bent knees. 

The fluttering fabric was a hindrance, giving Edge only glimpses of his brother’s pussy as it was penetrated, the lips spread wide around the head of a honey-golden cock, straining to accept the girth of it as the Judge nudged their slow way inside. Red only struggled to arch into it, his pelvis rising from the floor in mocking invitation.

“come on,” Red goaded, “you c’n do better’n that!” And was he brave or foolish, Edge didn’t know, watching as Judge reared back, their eyes lights bright with astonishment and fury as they did as Red ordered, snapped their hips forward, driving in with ragged bursts of breath, fucking into that tight, slippery pussy. His brother’s face tightened, sockets squeezing shut, his claws flexing as he clutched at the Judge’s shoulders and took it, his mouth running a litany of swearing and goading as he took everything the Judge offered. Whatever meager restraint they’d managed to keep with Edge was lost, broken, a deep, soul-wrenching roar coming out through clenched teeth as their hips hammered against Red’s. 

Who only hung on, legs wrapped around the Judge’s hips, his heels grinding against their pelvis as he moaned, all his careless provocation dwindling to a single bare thread of sound, “oh, fuck, _sans_ —"

Edge watched, listened, as the Judge crooned back, ludicrously kind even as they ravaged Red's smaller body. “yeah, 'm here, always here, sweetheart. never leave you.”

It seemed to set off a cascade within his brother, a domino effect that left him gasping and whining, his sharp fingers clawing through the Judge’s robes, leaving ragged slits in the fabric to show the glimpse of scratched bones beneath that welled with beads of marrow. The wet glick of their cock moving in Red’s pussy slowed, stilled, and Edge watched with a sort of perverse pleasure as they came in near unison, slumping down on the floor together in the puddled remains of orgasm. 

Long minutes passed before the Judge lifted their head and no, not the Judge, only Rus, looking in bewilderment at Red who seemed only semi-conscious beneath him, then blinked at Edge with bleary confusion, husking out a weak, “w’appened?”

"I've got you." Edge wasn't sure that he did. With the last of his strength he lifted Rus's light weight into his arms as he struggled out of the clinging tangle of Red’s limbs. 

“what did i—” the haze of his eye lights sharpened as the clutter of his memories seemed to sync and then they went wide with horrified realization, his hands moving over Edge’s bare bones, frantically searching. “did i hurt you?!”

“No,” Edge told him immediately. 

Rus’s mouth thinned, disbelieving, as his gaze swept over all of them. Edge supposed he couldn’t blame him; their clothes were in ruins, they were all dappled in colorful smears of come and marrow and flecks of dust. “i know how you like to split hairs, so you’ll forgive me if i ask that again. did i or any part of me hurt you?”

“No,” Edge repeated, firmly. It was the truth. There was a certain ache in his pussy, true, but it was not unpleasant, only strain from unaccustomed use. “You didn’t hurt me. The Judge didn’t hurt me.” He scattered gentle kisses over Rus’s face, whispered with as much soothing as he could muster, “I’m fine, love. We’re all fine. And I love you, all of you.”

“goes double for me,” Red rasped out. His sockets were barely open, showing a gleam of crimson. He managed to roll to his hands and knees to crawl over to them and Edge could only hope that he was the only one who saw a hastily suppressed wince as Red joined Rus in Edge’s lap, snuggling in close to them both. Edge had the randomly wild thought that Red wouldn’t care about the security cameras for the sex, but he’d delete every fragment of video for this. “all i need is a hot shower, honey, and i’ll be fine.” 

Rus’s drew back, his soft, pale eye lights flicking from Red to Edge and back again. His chin began to wobble, his sockets filling, and he reached out with trembling fingers to touch the fresh crack the attack left over Red’s socket, already crusted over with dried marrow. His fingertips glowed a delicate green that was not the Judge’s magic but his own, or perhaps it was one and the same. The crack narrowed, faded, vanishing beneath his touch and left behind only a bloody smear to flake away. Then he crumpled against them and those warm tears finally fell, dripping wetly to cool against their bare, aching bones. 

They both held him tightly as he cried; for the Royal Guards who were killed in the attack, perhaps, or his regrets for what Red and Edge allowed of him, or for himself, for what a Judging cost him. Edge didn’t know. 

What he knew was that his soul was filled to overflowing with desperate love for the gentle person in his arms. The same love he could see in his brother’s eye lights, deep and endless, and layered beside it was matching determination to keep him safe against anyone who dared to hurt what was theirs. 

The small space of the elevator was growing claustrophobic. They would need to go soon, try to find a way back to their quarters without being seen by too many others, to keep from entirely shattering their illusions about their Judge. There would need to be an inquiry, Toriel would need to be informed and her own security tightened. There were so many necessary, terrible things that must be done. 

But Edge only sat there with his love and his brother in his arms, holding them close, and made a grim promise of his own to the Angel herself. Anyone who tried to take this from him would pay and the wrath of the Judge would be a pittance compared to his own. 

-fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying this series and would like to see more, let me know!


	6. Solo Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the attack, Rus has some time to himself.

* * *

Rus woke up disoriented, the sticky tangle of dream memories slowly fading. It was hard to tell sometimes where those memories began and the dreams ended. Okay, a lot of times, actually, but in this moment there was no one in his head but himself. For now, anyway.

He pushed up on his elbows, sleepily scanning the room. There was no telling what time it was. The room was windowless and Edge didn’t allow any electronics into the bedroom past their cell phones, and that was only reluctantly in case of emergency. Rus wasn’t entirely sure where his cell phone even was, could be it was another casualty of the attack in the cafeteria. 

He winced inwardly at his own dark humor, eh, but it _was_ funny, wasn’t it? How many guards died because he wanted a chance at the cafeteria chow, now there was a question! How much dust was coating that plain tile floor because he was trying to play at normal for five fucking minutes, how close did he come to losing Red, losing Edge, their dust joining all the rest.

It was hilarious, really, if you thought about it. All of that over a bowl of macaroni smothered in artificial cheese. As if he hadn’t been jogging miles away from normal since the day he woke up with an entire Greek chorus in his head. 

Now might not be the best time to think about it.

Their bed was large, custom-made specifically for them, and on one side of him Red was asleep, his limbs starfished out beneath the covers, taking up far more than his fair share of the mattress like he always did. The other side of the mattress was empty, the sheets already cool, and that was pretty normal as well. Edge didn’t need as much sleep as they did, and he usually ended up leaving early to cook up some breakfast or to use their personal gym.

Rus grimaced just thinking about it, fully expecting to be forcefully goaded once again onto the treadmill later. For his health, Edge told him. Yeah, for his health, and all of them could pretend that it was a lack of exercise that was slowly sending his body and soul into a deteriorating downward spiral, and not the strain of constantly linking with the Divine while carrying around far too much magic for his soul to handle. 

Ah, well, that wasn’t going to happen today or tomorrow, or anytime soon if Red and Edge had their way. Those two would willingly sacrifice their own health in a soulbeat to keep his magic at safe levels, and that was something Rus wasn’t going to allow, if he could help it. 

Even now, he could feel the need to shed magic creeping up. But after that last horrible manifestation filled his soul to bursting, he’d needed so much from them, too much.

They’d left the wreck of the elevator a mortifying mess, the three of them staggering back to their rooms as quickly as they could. Despite coming twice only a few minutes before, Rus was already pleading with them humiliatingly by the time they made it through the door. They barely made it to the bedroom, Edge and Red’s claws shredded away what remained of his robes as they worked to give him what he begged for with fingers and cocks and mouths, both of them trembling with fatigue by the time Rus’s soul was barely satisfied. A glance at Red showed dark circles of exhaustion under his sockets even now and Rus was reluctant to wake him, particularly since he doubted that Red’s magic was recovered enough for anything more strenuous than a rough fingering. 

Edge was probably marginally better and certainly wouldn’t begrudge Rus another round, but Rus didn’t want to interrupt whatever he was doing. They both liked to talk about their vows, which was all fine and well, but they deserved a chance for a least a _little_ time to themselves, whether it was for sleep or baking scones. And Rus needed to give that to them, damn it, they both gave him so much and asked for nothing. His soul ached with helpless love for them, but also with the rising need to use up magic.

All right, then. A solo jaunt seemed to be in order. 

Carefully, Rus slipped from the bed, though his caution seemed to be pointless as Red didn’t so much as stir from enthusiastic snoring. He knelt at the side of the bed, pulling an ornate box from beneath and opened it, scanning the contents. There was plenty to see, a vast selection of toys all neatly ordered and always properly sterilized after each use. Edge had certain standards when it came to sex, even sex that required a little external assistance. As willing as they were, even on days where they weren’t exhausted by a vicious attack, sometimes Edge and Red wore out before Rus was properly drained. Or even if they didn’t, Red in particular enjoyed tormenting Rus with a variety of devices and it made Rus blush to remember the way Red watched hungrily as Rus squirmed and shuddered beneath the force of strategically placed vibrators. Still, it wasn’t exactly unreasonable that only two Monsters wouldn’t be able to fuck him six and seven times at a go. 

Past Judges had more Chosen, Rus knew that firsthand. One former Judge alone had about thirty at their disposal and if he asked for another chance at Choosing, Rus knew it would be granted without hesitation. Only, Rus didn’t want any other Chosen, even thinking it left him nauseated to imagine unknown hands moving over his bones. So he took a secondary option.

Since he was on his own, Rus decided simplicity would be best. He hesitated, dithering over the selection until his soul throbbed warningly. Finally, he picked one of the larger dildos that was studded with bumps that promised tantalizing sensation. The different dildos and vibrators came in a variety of colors and Rus supposed wryly that he was terribly predictable since he picked one in bright crimson. So he had a preference, so what, he spent enough time Judging people, he didn’t need to judge himself. 

Prize in hand, Rus crept off to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

He flicked on the lights, wincing at the abrupt gleam from the expanse of shining white porcelain, hand-scrubbed by Edge since he mistrusted the cleaning staff. Rus settled to sit on the fluffy bath rug, his spine against the oversized tub as he examined the toy more closely, slim fingers running over it curiously. Usually he didn’t get to see them from this angle. It was a solid, girthy shaft, the crimson a few shades off from his lovers. His fingers barely met around it and it was covered in a variety of knobby bumps. Frankly, the size was a bit intimidating, even though Rus knew it had been inside him before. No big deal, (heh), he’d been intimidated by Edge and Red’s cocks the first time he’d seen them and look how well that turned out.

His soul was starting to throb with greedy insistence, and Rus settled in. He drew up his thin sleeping shirt and spread his femurs, let his pussy form where his magic was already rousing eagerly in his pelvis. But when he pressed the tip of the dildo between the lips at his entrance, the hard, cold plastic made him wince as it rubbed dryly. 

Huh. The soul might be ready but the body, less so.

Undaunted, Rus set it aside and pressed his fingers against the folds, rubbing softly.

Inside his rib cage, his soul began to seep, fat silver droplets pattering down and splattering his pelvis hotly like a rebuke, hinting unsubtly that this was taking entirely too long. But his pussy still didn’t seem eager to cooperate, it stayed stubbornly dry despite his fondling and even pushing one skeletally slim finger in was uncomfortable. 

Rus sighed in frustration, letting his head drop back against the tub with a hollow-sounding thunk. Looked like he was getting a little too accustomed to immediate service, and his cunt wasn’t happy about the status change.

Well, Rus might be an avatar for the Divine and he might need sex to control his magical output, and he might well spend his days frequently getting fucked by the two Monsters he loved more than anything in the world, but he would be damned if he was about to let his genitals make all the decisions for him. 

Maybe he only needed some inspiration. 

Rus closed his sockets and thought back to the night before while his slim fingers rubbing idly along his slit. Even with the fog of exhaustion blurring it, it was a good memory; Edge pinning his wrists gently to the bed, holding him down while Red buried his face between his femurs, his long, talented tongue pushing deeply inside his drenched pussy while Rus pleaded with him for more. Licking away his own come and Edge’s along with Rus’s fluids as the obscene mixture oozed out, his thumb and forefinger pinching Rus’s clit almost painfully even as Edge crooning soft approval above him, filthy words whispered in that deep, elegant voice of his like a caress of their own, making his pussy clench around Red’s tongue so hard he nearly choked and — 

_\--the feel of Edge’s cunt clenching as he orgasmed around their cock, achingly tight…Red underneath them, dazed and clutching at them as they drove into his pussy, watching their golden shaft fill the magic in Red’s pelvis almost up to his rib cage, again, again—_

“Hnng!” Rus abruptly convulsed in an unexpected orgasm, taken utterly by surprise, any veneer of composure shattering at the suddenness. He tasted the bright blurt of magic as he accidentally bit his tongue, his bones clattered as he trembled, echoing too loud in the small room. His femurs jerked closed around his hand as he rode the pressure of his fingers desperately, clenching his jaw to keep his unwilling cries from breaking free.

It took a moment for him to come back down from the crest and when he did, Rus only sagged against the tub, panting hard and blinking unsteadily as he looked down at himself. The silvery leakage from his soul splattered his spine and pelvis, still dripping into a puddle on the rug and mixing indecently with the pooling honey-gold of his magic as it slipped from his now-drenched pussy. His fingers were slick with both, more smeared colorfully along the insides of his femurs. In the filthy aftermath, he was a wreck, a pretty wreck his lovers would probably call him, but he was sitting here on his own, and recalling what made him come so hard made Rus flush with aching shame. 

Welp, he spent plenty of time trapped in his own head, no need to do it right now.

He shoved the memory to the side as he wobbled to his feet, ignoring the faint whisper of voices at the back of his skull that marveled delightedly over it. He stripped off his nightshirt and rolled it in the soiled rug, forcing both down the laundry chute. Then he turned on the shower, stepping beneath the scorching spray and let the cleansing water fall over him.

The twinging ache in his soul demanding release was still lingering, a reminder that one climax was hardly enough. Rus sighed and grudgingly sat down right in the tub, reached out with a wet hand to fumble for the dildo, and this time, he didn’t bother to wait, pressing the hard tip between his still drenched lips and forcing the length of it deep inside despite the burning stretch. He was coming before it was halfway in, writhing against the unforgiving plastic as the hot spray washed away all the spurting fluids that came with it. 

He kept it up, fumbling up on his knees to ride that thick shaft, whimpering at the feel of those hard bumps dragging against his cunt walls until he came again, again, each orgasm less pleasurable than the last. Braced weakly on one hand as his hips moved, grinding against his own fist at the base of the dildo and the sound from the spray disguised his desperate, gurgling cries as he took what rough satisfaction he could from the inanimate plastic filling him nearly to the point of pain as his magic level slowly fell with each disappointing climax. 

This time, he didn’t think about anything, or anyone. Not at all. 

-fin


	7. Appealing To Better Judgment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the previous day's attack, Edge has questions and conundrums, but all he cares about is protecting those he loves.

* * *

It could more properly be called brunch than breakfast, Edge supposed, when the meal was riding on the border of noon, even if he’d started cooking closer to dawn. 

That was when he’d left Rus and Red alone in their wide bed, too agitated to sleep any longer and not needing as much rest as they did besides. Edge dressed in silence, coming out to the kitchen. He put on his apron without even a recipe in mind and simply started cooking, infusing each dish with as much healing magic as it could take.

None of them had eaten since yesterday morning and Edge suspected when Rus woke, he’d need food and healing both, as much as Edge could coax into him. 

Edge made plenty, choosing both sweet and savory. Red would eat anything that was put in front of him and Edge wasn’t sure what Rus might want so it was best to be prepared. Batter for waffles was chilling in the refrigerator and a hearty soup made with homemade noodles simmered on the back of the stove. Hot rice was waiting in the cooker, needing only a raw egg vigorously stirred into it until the grains were glossy and a splash of soy sauce. 

To finish was a plate of small fluffy cakes ready to be drizzled with honey, each topped with a variety of fresh fruit. All of it delectable, an attempt to temper nutrition with treats that might entice Rus when his appetite might be lagging. He needed to eat but his desire for food sometimes ebbed after a long possession, leaving him picking listlessly at his plate. 

That was something Edge was trying to avoid today by offering plenty of options. What Rus needed was plenty of food, rich with healing magic and not only Rus. Red would be worn out yet from the expending so much magic yesterday in the attack and then spending the night dealing with Rus’s helpless demands. Edge already ate, shoring up his own reserves for anything that might be required of him; food, protection, comfort, even more sex. 

He couldn’t keep the world outside away forever, but he could give them this.

There was no way to tell how Rus would be when he woke. Edge didn’t have a measure for anything like the last day. In his experience, the Judge only manifested fully for a Judgement. Truthfully, Edge did not know what standards needed met to call for a one, but couldn’t be as simple as trying to murder the vessel or else other Judges would have done the same during past assassination attempts. Not every crime called for a Judgement and even with all Edge’s training and time as Chosen, he’d never heard of a Judgement happening outside the hall, whether it was in New Home or the modified corner office in the Embassy

He’d certainly never heard of the Judge fucking their Chosen. None of his teachings indicated that would even be a possibility and the memory of being pressed against the elevator wall, of the Judge staring at him, _through_ him, their gaze plunging into the depths of his soul, the surge of power as he was taken—

Edge shook the memory away, focusing on giving the simmering soup a stir. It was over and right now Rus needed him just as much as he had the night before, if for very different reasons. Now was the time for Rus to recover and regain his physical strength before the Judge needed to manifest again. Edge was far less worried about being fucked against a wall than he was at Rus’s appearance early this morning. Even asleep he’d seemed fragile, his pale bones chalky rather than luminescent in the darkness of their room and his physical energy drained even as his magic levels slowly rose yet again.

An unexpected knock at their door made Edge’s own magic flare unconsciously. Yesterday’s attack left his instincts raw and ready, but there were passing few Monsters who had the clearance to even exit the elevator at their floor, much less make it through all the security Checkpoints

A glance at the cameras showed the Queen waiting, her own guards standing a fair distance back. Unacceptable; he should have had warning that they were approaching long before they ever made it to the door. That was a discussion to have with Red when he awoke.

That did not change the fact that she was here and there were very few reasons she might come directly to their door. Almost, Edge wanted to scream at the unfairness of it, to stamp his foot like a child and refuse to open to her. Rus wasn’t ready, he was exhausted, he needed his rest and another manifestation right now might—

But Rus knew what was expected of him; he’d made his vows and so had Edge. He wouldn’t thank Edge for keeping Toriel away, would likely be furious with him for overstepping. Rus could not be held back when he didn’t wish it and neither could the Judge.

It was a poor satire, Edge supposed, that after spending most of his life eager to join the guard, to protect the Judge and King, that he would be here now, wishing in the privacy of his own thoughts for a chance to steal Rus away, to keep him from anyone but Red and himself. Ridiculous, unworthy thoughts for any guard, much less a Chosen. Even if there were a way for him to secret Rus out of the building, his love would never agree to go with him and neither would Red. His brother would likely be deeply disgusted at the very idea of it. 

Edge couldn’t steal Rus away, couldn’t selfishly keep Rus for him and Red alone. He couldn’t.

All he could do was open the door. 

Edge bowed to the Queen even as he kept a wary eye on her entourage. “Can I help you, your Highness?”

Her smile was gentle, wry, and Toriel could not read a Monster’s soul, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t tell what was on one’s mind. “Good morning. I’m not here about a Judgement, I only wanted to speak with you about yesterday, Edge.”

Edge did not allow even a flicker of his relief to show on his face. “Come in, your Highness.”

Her team made no attempt to follow as she stepped over the threshold and the moment the door was closed, she asked without preamble, “How is Rus?”

“He’s sleeping right now,” Edge said. He headed back to the kitchen to make sure nothing would burn without his attention, gesturing the Queen to their sitting area. “I can’t begin to conjecture about his state of mind, but his body is exhausted.”

Toriel nodded. “I won’t ask you to wake him,” she sighed heavily and sat. The sofas were large enough even for her bulk and Edge deliberately did not think of having Rus lovely and naked in his lap not two days ago in the very spot she chose. “I’m quite sure he needs all the rest he can get.”

“I would agree.” Edge reached for the kettle. “Would you like some tea, your Highness?"

"Do you have anything stronger?"

It was unexpected and Edge only hesitated briefly, "We do." His brother kept a small stash of liquor for the rare indulgence. Rus never drank, saying that his head whirled enough. He did occasionally steal a sip from Red’s glass, saying he missed it sometimes, his days of overindulgence from Before. 

Edge dug the bottle out from one of the cabinets, bringing it and a pair of glasses to the coffee table. Toriel took the bottle, pouring out a splash of the dark brown liquid into both without so much as examining the label. She tossed it back, grimacing, then poured herself another. “Two of the guard are dead,” she said. “The healers are still working on another. He may yet survive, if the Angel wills it.” She looked up from her glass. “Will you tell him?”

“If he asks.” And if he didn’t, Edge would hold that information until he dusted.

She nodded wearily. “They’re getting bolder.”

“Yes.” This was the third attack in as many months and the closest yet to Rus. The guard was spread thin and their ranks might well be compromised. It was incredibly frustrating and even more humiliating to come to the surface world and discover that the danger was not from the Humans but from their own kind. 

Curious that while not all of the dissidents from the previous attacks died in the attempt, none of them had been Judged. The Queen could call for a Judgement on anyone, it was her right, and Edge wondered briefly why she hadn’t. She’d not asked for the Judge for those who initiated the last attack and instead called for their execution immediately after what Edge could only assume was a very thorough interrogation. Edge also hadn’t been called for, but his brother had, and the night after his return, Red spent an inordinate amount of time between Rus’s thighs, riding him until he was hoarse from pleading and Red’s shoulder blades were a mess of fine scratches from Rus scrabbling to hold on.

Toriel took another swallow from her glass, staring into the depths as she said, softly, “I must confess, I would have given almost anything for Rus to not have been Chosen as Judge. To be honest, I would never have expected it to be him, not after his brother.” She swirled the remaining liquor in her glass. “It’s so uncommon for more than one member of a family to be Chosen, but here was Rus and then you and your brother came right after.” She looked up, meeting Edge’s gaze pensively. “There was always a preference for skeletons in both Judges and Guards. Your kind is strong and there are so few of you now. Perhaps with your numbers so low, there were few options.”

Her regard made Edge shift uncomfortably. He had no desire for the Queen’s confidence outside of how it affected Rus. Skeleton Monsters were few, it was true, and fewer still who could be in the guard. “Speaking of skeletons, how is Blue?”

If Toriel had an issue with the subject change, she didn’t show it. “He’s doing well,” Toriel said, “all things considered. He has a house of his own now in the Refuge with the others who don’t want to live in Ebott proper. Since he’s left the guard, he’s taken up gardening. His flowers are quite lovely.”

"Rus misses him." Edge only knew Blue only by reputation, a former guard and Chosen. He’d survived the coup, but not unscathed. Edge saw him once in the direct aftermath of it all, when he came into the throne room with his unit to cough on the dust still heavy in the air. Blue was one of the few still alive, or at least what was left of him. 

Rus spoke of him, not often, but when he did it was always with a certain desperate longing that Edge understood all too well. When Red joined the guard, he’d been alone for close to two years before being able to join himself and then in only a few short months, he’d been Chosen alongside him. He and his brother would never be apart in life again. Unlike Rus and Blue.

“I know,” Toriel said. Her gaze was very nearly admonishing, whether it was for that comment or simply asking about Blue at all. “But a former Chosen can’t be reunited with the current Judge, you know that.”

“I do,” Edge said stiffly, resisting the urge to snarl that he hardly needed a lecture on etiquette from her. He abided by the laws of the Chosen daily, from the moment he woke until the time he drew Rus back into their shared bed at night, no matter how he felt about them.

She went on, obliviously, “Rus should take comfort in the fact Blue survived at all. None of the others did, including the Judge themselves.” 

That felt entirely too much like a scolding, making Edge bristle. Rus did take comfort in it, but he should be allowed to miss his fucking brother. He’d lost him once to the guard and then again when he himself was chosen as Judge. In two years, the only and last time Rus saw his brother was in the hospital before he regained consciousness. By the next day, the last host succumbed to their injuries and Rus woke in the morning an entirely different person than the one who’d lain down for what he thought was only a night’s sleep.

Something of his irritation must have shown on his face. Toriel’s expression softened, “I’m sorry if that seems cold, my memory of the event is not a pleasant one, particularly with the ripples of the repercussions are still effecting us.”

That was undeniably true. Some still blame the Judge for betraying Asgore, dissidents who thought that war with the Humans was the only path and that Toriel was a traitor to the crown. 

They were fools, all of them. They were the true traitors, not to the crown, but to the Angel herself. The true loyalty of the Judge was to the Angel and the Maker, not any ruler, and if They chose Toriel as their leader, then she was the rightful heir to the throne. Those Monsters, those so-called Acolytes of Asgore were the ones who strayed from the path and Edge would see them all as dust before they could lay a finger on the hem of Rus’s robes. 

That was a promise he made to the Angel and to himself, sworn on his own soul. 

Toriel heaved herself to her feet, setting her empty glass next to the bottle. “I doubt the warning is necessary, but you and your brother should have a care the next few weeks. Things will get worse before they’re better, I think. I can feel it in my soul.”

“Of course, your Highness,” Edge said crisply. He started for the door even before she did, more than ready for her to leave their home. Their sanctuary, such as it was.

There was a certain sadness to her smile, but she obeyed his unspoken demand and followed him to the door. “Let him know I stopped by?” she asked, quietly. “I miss my friend.” 

“I will,” Edge agreed, and he would. But perhaps tomorrow, once Rus was more himself and no other.

He secured the door behind her, watching on the security feed until she and her entourage made their way back to the elevators. Then he walked back up the table to pick up the other glass and swallowed it down. The burn of expensive whiskey was no different to him than cheap moonshine, both were equally foul, but he needed something to steady his agitated nerves.

“is she gone?”

Edge turned around to find Rus peeking out from around the corner to the hallway that led to their bedroom, all wide eye lights and worry. The sight of him, healthy and alive, was more settling then any liquor could possibly be. 

“Yes,” Edge said gently, “It’s safe.” He held out a hand to his love, even as he scolded lightly, “You should still be sleeping.”

Rus slipped around the corner and Edge sighed in fond irritation to see he was in his bare feet on the cold floor. His feet weren’t the only part of him bare, he was only wearing one of Edge’s button-ups, shamelessly hanging open overtop his bones and managing to be simultaneously too big for his shoulders and too small for his height. The hem skirted around his pelvis tantalizingly, alternatively baring and concealing. Edge never left his clothes on the floor which meant Rus had to bypass his own clothing to get it from the closet. Comfort clothes, Rus told him once, wearing Edge’s clothes felt like being held in his arms. That and Rus knew that Edge liked to see him in them, deliberately showing off both his nakedness and Edge’s claim to him like the brat that he was.

He caught Rus around the hips and dragged him down onto one of the sofas, the one Toriel hadn’t been sitting on. Rus snuggled in happily, drawing up his legs as he curled up against Edge. 

“couldn’t sleep anymore,” Rus admitted. “red is taking up the whole bed. think he grows overnight, like one of those damn chia pets.”

“He does spread out an incredible amount for how short he is,” Edge agreed. Better to let Red sleep. Rus was often very needy after a manifestation and Red would need all the energy he could get. “How long were you standing there?”

Rus grimaced, fleeting shame crossing his face. "long enough. sorry i didn't come out sooner."

Edge only pressed a light kiss against the slight nodule of his nasal ridge, rubbing a gentle hand up the length of Rus’s spine. He could feel every intricate joint through the thin layer of linen. "It's my duty to protect you from all things, even nosy friends."

A sniff of Rus’s jawline carried with it a soapy clean scent instead of sleep-sweat. Rus was fresh from the shower, and Edge frowned inwardly, discretely checking him. His magic level was stable which meant that unless he'd persuaded Red into some hasty activity he'd likely masturbated in the shower. Not that Edge had a problem with that; he even enjoyed watching if Rus was in one of his fey mood, his own desire a burning flame as Rus taunted them, shuddering from one orgasm to the next while refusing them a chance to touch. 

But Edge suspected it wasn't a desire for personal attention that drove Rus to it and more his altruistic nature, and that was more than a little frustrating. It wasn’t Rus’s duty to worry about them, no matter how warming it was. He’d thought them long past the point of Rus hiding his needs. 

No matter. Rus was here now and if he needed anything else today, Edge was more than capable of serving.

Until then there were other needs that should be addressed. “You should eat.”

For blessed once, Rus nodded agreeably, “okay, edgelord, what’ve you got for me?”

Much as it pained him to pull away, Edge drew from Rus’s hold and settled for shaking out a blanket to wrap around his slender shoulders. “Hold on and I’ll bring a tray.”

It was the work of moments to take out the waffle batter and pour a serving into the waiting iron. He ladled out a bowl of the soup as he waited for the waffle to cook, adding a small plate of the cakes after drizzling them with honey as golden as Rus’s magic, though not as sweet and that was something he told Rus often to see that same shade bloom in his cheek bones like wildflowers. The rice he left for now; that was more of Red’s preference. The waffle was added to the plate still steaming hot, doused thoroughly in syrup and a dollop of whipped butter melting into the crevices. 

Rus stared as he carried the heavy tray over to the coffee table, laughing nervously, “that looks great, babe, but how hungry do you think i am?”

“What I think is that if you eat even two bites from each dish, I will be happy,” Edge retorted. He nudged the whiskey bottle aside and set the tray in front of Rus. 

“i do like making you happy,” Rus murmured. He picked up a fork and it hovered over the plates indecisively. Then it sagged without touching a thing, Rus glancing up at Edge. “um. could you maybe…will you hold me while i eat?”

After all this time, it still stung that Rus was afraid to ask for what he needed. But those doubts weren’t for Edge, he knew, and Rus was always more uncertain after a long night of needing to be fucked, so wary of crossing a line that for Edge simply did not exist. The irony of someone like Rus being Chosen as the Judge always made Edge wonder sourly about the divine sense of humor. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against Rus’s skull, breathing in his sweetness as he murmured, “Of course.”

Edge moved to sit behind Rus, his legs on either side of him, pulling him back against his chest even as he urged Rus to scoot forward, closer to the filled plates. That empty fork finally settled on the waffle, cutting through the crisp exterior to the softness within, revealing a smear of melting chocolate chips.

It took three bites before Rus offered one to Edge, catching a dribble of buttery syrup with the tip of his tongue as he gestured with the fork at Edge. “y’wanna bite?”

Hiding his distaste, Edge leaned in and carefully took the syrup-soaked bite, trying not to gag as his formed tongue cramped at the overwhelming sweetness. In his arms, Rus quivered in poorly disguised laughter that turned into a squeal as Edge poked his fingers into Rus’s ribs, squirming them ticklishly. 

“You are taking advantage of my giving nature,” Edge growled teasingly, then hugged him close, "How is your head?”

“bet’r,” Rus swallowed around his current mouthful. “better. takes a little while for it to all sink in. two manifestations in one week leaves me jittery, i guess.”

"That's one way of putting it."

Rus pushed the waffles aside and picked up a spoon. He stirred the soup, noodles and vegetables rising to the surface, but he didn’t take a bite. “i’m starting to remember more,” Rus admitted softly. “yesterday, sans came out. while they were…” Rus’s voice faltered briefly then firmed, “while they were fucking red.”

There was no point in denying it. Edge tightened his arms around Rus. “Yes.”

He nodded a little, his head lowered as he whispered, “is red…do you think he's okay?”

“He’s fine, love.” It wasn’t quite a lie. Whatever emotions Red felt from that manifestation, it hadn’t shown in the aftermath and his brother was vanishingly unlikely to allow it to affect him, either in his treatment of Rus or his duties. That was as close to fine as any of them could ask. 

Rus swallowed hard, his voice as soft as a confession, “i didn’t mean to hurt him like that.”

An unpleasant thought occurred, and Edge asked it, baldly, “Are you worrying he doesn’t love you? Because if so—"

Rus shifted, turning in Edge’s arms and his expression was of such aghast surprise that it made Edge weak with relief. “no, of course not. that’s…no.” Rus said, firmly. “i might have sans's essence, but i know red loves me." He sighed, moving to rest his head against Edge’s chest, surely to keep from having to look at him. "but. red did join the guard hoping to get chosen by sans, i know that. he would have, too, if there'd been time. sans liked variety, he picked new chosen all the time, even my own brother—”

He choked, faltering, and Edge only pulled him closer, urging him on silently, “is it wrong that i’m glad he wasn't?” Rus asked. His voice was achingly timid. “if he was sans's chosen, then he couldn’t be mine. i know it’s selfish—"

“No,” Edge soothed. He cupped Rus’s skull in his bare hand, careful to keep his sharpened fingertips from grazing the pristine bone. “No, it’s not selfish, not at all. It only means you love him, the same as he and I love you.”

The very idea of not having Red with them was despicable, horrifying. To Edge’s mind, Sans had plenty of Chosen during his tenure. Rus only Chose two and wanted no other and for that, Edge felt only a wealth of gratitude. The thought that a stranger might have been Chosen along with him instead of Red, a stranger who would be not only allowed but required to touch Rus’s delicate bones, to have their mouth on him, tasting his sweetness, to fuck him and listen as he begged. Edge would have been forced to endure it, they both would.

They sat in silence and Edge slipped a hand beneath Rus’s shirt, petting his bare bones soothingly, seeking only to comfort and not entice. In slow increments Rus relaxed against him, settling against him more comfortably and Edge was tempted to leave things as they were. He could urge Rus back to his plate, cajole and bully a few more bites into him and then perhaps coax him into another nap. 

Tempting, but there was a question that needed asking and if Edge didn’t bring it up now, it would be all the easier to let it slide and never ask it at all. And it needed asked, if only for his own soul. Edge closed his sockets, tasting regret as he asked, “Rus, this isn't the first attack we've stopped. But it's the first time the Judge surfaced during one. Why this time, why now? Do you know?"

Immediately, Rus said, “they were going to hurt you and red.”

That was not the answer Edge wanted and it was the one he dreaded most. “Our duty is to protect you, not the other way around.”

“that’s your opinion.” Rus said sullenly. He drew back enough to look Edge in the face, all hostile glares. There was a stirring in the air, like static dancing over them, prickling at their bones and glinting in Rus’s eye lights. “you’re Chosen for us, like so many others, and yet,” Rus voice dropped faintly into a strange echoing whisper, "we've Chosen so many and none of Them ever made Us Feel as you Two Do. In A Thousand Years, None Of Them Ever Loved Us So Deeply In Return."

Rus’s pale eye lights flickered, gleaming indescribably brighter. Then he blinked, his gaze clearing. He glanced around, confused, "i'm sorry, what was i saying?"

"Nothing, love," Edge said. Shaken as he was, he didn’t allow any of it in his voice, saying only, “Come on now, eat up for me.”

Rus seemed doubtful but didn’t press. He managed a few bites of soup and half of one of the cakes before pushing the tray away with a sigh. It was more than Edge hoped for and when he Checked Rus, his HP was steady. He didn’t need the Check to know Rus’s magic levels were rising, Edge could smell it, heavy in the air, that syrupy thickness sweeter than any cakes. 

Physically Rus was exhausted, but his magic continued building up relentlessly and it wouldn’t wait for a nap before needing relieved.

Rus knew it as well, sighing impatiently. "all i wanted was to hold you.”

"I know," Edge soothed. He kept his touch light, fingertips tracing the glossy smoothness of ribs. "It'll be all right, love, your magic is always more lively after a manifestation. In a day or two, it will be settled. You know that.” There was another unmentioned benefit. If nothing else, sex also kept Rus’s thoughts from wandering, sifting through memories he didn't need to look at, like picking at an irritating scab. It was difficult to fret when one was hazed with ecstasy and that was a fact. 

Not that Rus seemed in any position to appreciate that. He mumbled out a subdued, “yeah.” Pulled out of Edge’s arms to sit in the corner of the sofa, spreading his bare femurs and summoning his cunt. The glistening lips were puffy and swollen, recently used and poorly at that.

Edge frowned inwardly but chose not to call Rus on it. Not now, when his emotions were teetering like a cup on a table ledge, ready to topple and pour his melancholy over them all. 

Instead, he ducked his head and ran his tongue gently along the delicate slit. He did not miss Rus’s flinch despite his care. Rus was sore then and that right there was Edge’s issue with him taking care of himself. Rus could be too rough on his own, trying to get it over with even though some things shouldn’t be rushed

Some day they were going to spend some quality time together with Edge directing him, but not now. For now, his magic needed relieved without causing his love any more pain. 

Edge considered, rubbing his thumbs down the smooth bone that ran along the insides of Rus’s femurs. “Would you be comfortable forming your cock?”

Rus startled, his sockets widening briefly, then he cringed into himself and nodded. That was the opposite of what Edge wished to see and he crawled up the length of Rus body to kiss him gently, drawing him back out before he told Rus, "No is a complete answer, love, you don't have to.”

His chin wobbled, but Rus’s nod was firm, "yeah, no, i can. but i don't want to—” He gestured awkwardly, frustrated as he stumbled over the words that he couldn’t seem to form. That was all right, Edge didn’t need him to say it.

"I'm not asking you to fuck me," Edge told him quietly. 

Rus nodded shakily. He closed his sockets, face tightening as he struggled to exchange his pussy for his cock. The transformation was a difficult one, sweat forming on Rus’s skull, trickling down, and almost, Edge asked him to stop, ready to make do with what they had. 

But finally Rus’s cock coalesced into existence at his pubic mound. Edge stared, fascinated. It had been inside him, but he'd never seen it. Smaller than his imaginings, the shaft had seemed enormous while the Judge was fucking him, stretching his walls with agonizing pleasure. Instead, this cock was long and slender, much like Rus himself, the same honey-tinted ectoflesh as his pussy. It curved up towards Rus’s abdominal cavity, tautly hard beneath his hand as Edge reached out to curl his fingers around it. Rus groaned as Edge gave it a light stroke, moving to gently push back the foreskin and reveal the rounded head, fondling the sensitive ridge beneath it. Whatever Rus’s uncertainties, his cock knew what it wanted. Golden magic beaded at the tip, glossy wet and begging to be licked away. 

Edge’s mouth watered, eager to taste, but he swallowed the pseudosaliva away, looking up into Rus’s lovely, flushed face as he asked, "Is this all right?" 

He waited only long enough for Rus to give a shaky nod and then fell hungrily upon him. 

The taste was different than Rus’s pussy, unexpectedly potent and the sweetness was tainted with an underlying bitterness. It was delicious and Edge groaned around the length filling his mouth, working his tongue against the shaft, seeking more. 

It had been a long time since he’d done this, not since his training days back in the barracks. Back then this had been nothing more than another exercise, a chore that might be required of him if he were ever Chosen and he’d endured learning it the same as he did the morning drills. 

For Rus, he wanted nothing more than to overwhelm him with pleasure, a chance to show to him that this could be as good as being fucked. Those long-ago lessons came back to him in blurts of memory coupled with common sense. To be cautious of his jaggedly sharp teeth, that didn’t change no matter what equipment Edge went down on. Making sure to keep the heated, plush magic of his mouth wet and slippery to allow the shaft to slide easily. Bobbing his head in slow, luxurious movements, winding his tongue around the length and swallowing deeply to let the head of the shaft bump chokingly deep into his throat. 

Above him, Rus cried out, shrill and shocked, and way he moved, his fingers scrabbling over Edge’s skull, suggested he wasn't entirely comfortable with it. Reluctantly, Edge pulled off, licking the lingering sticky-sweetness from his teeth as he said, "Love, we don't need to—"

"i know,” Rus panted. His entire face was glowing with a hectic flush, his eye lights bright and wild. His slim hands fluttered indecisively, phalanges clicking softly together, “i know, don’t stop, keep going, please!"

Instead, Edge ran the tip of his tongue up the length of the shaft, watching that light touch crackle in Rus’s eye lights. Rus’s hands fisted, trembling against the sofa cushion as he struggled not to touch when Edge did it again, lapping away the renewed surge of sweetly-bitter fluid leaking from the tip. Edge let his breath touch that wet skin, damp and hot, as he murmured solicitously, “Would it be better if I held you down?”

It was an answer he already knew. Rus enjoyed being tied up well enough but for one of them to hold him down nearly sent him into a frenzy, sputtering out wordless cries as he struggled and begged. His love would never admit it in so many words, he was usually too mortified to even ask for it, but he and Red drew the truth from him over time with mouths and hands. Rus didn’t want to give up his control, he wanted it to be _taken_ , and that his cock pulsed at the mere mention of being held down was a fair sign that still held true.

Edge only let his mouth curve smugly as Rus looked away, his blush deepened to a true orange as he muttered, “shut up.”

“Love, I didn’t say a word.” 

And he didn’t, only took hold of Rus’s wrists and pinned them firmly to either side of him on the sofa cushions. Rus struggled briefly in his grip, trying fruitlessly to twist free and when he couldn’t, he sank back, panting, each word couched in a whine as he pleaded, “please, c’mon, i can’t…i need it, please!” 

Through the open shirt, his soul was manifesting, already slick with thick silvery fluid, fat droplets on the verge of falling. His magic levels were getting painfully high then and Edge didn’t waste another moment, ducking his head and taking Rus’s cock in again deeply, sucking hard. 

The shaft throbbed suddenly in his mouth, pulsing, and the abrupt spill of thick, hot seed at the back of his throat nearly made him choke. Edge struggled to swallow it down, taking Rus as deeply as he could, his nasal ridge pressed tight to his pubic bone. Rus was squirming and sobbing, fighting against Edge’s grip even as he came hotly down his throat. He whimpered out a feeble protest as Edge pulled off, only to let out a near scream as he lapped his way lower instead, following the smoothness of the ectoflesh back to find the tight pucker of his ass. He licked up the cleft and back down, pressed the narrow tip of his tongue against it, breaching that furled hole and forcing his slippery tongue in deep. It was so tight, clenching around the flexible length of his tongue, and for a moment Edge lost himself in it, muffling his own guttural cries into the generous curves of overheated ectoflesh, imagining that tightness around his own cock, thrusting inside and jerking Rus off with his other hand or better, Red sucking him off, his mouth tight around slender length of Rus’s shaft, grunting out his own satisfaction in deep gurgles as they gave their lover pleasure from both sides.

Beneath his eager mouth, Rus convulsed, his hips jerking so hard he nearly sent Edge to the floor and his bony knees clattering against the sides of Edge’s skull as he came again, crying out in desperate ecstasy.

By the time Edge reluctantly drew away, Rus was shivering with exhaustion, pulling weakly at Edge’s shirt. Edge let go of Rus’s wrists and followed that upward tug, but not before glimpsing the pretty bracelets of deep orange bruises he’d left behind to fuss over later.

“please, fuck me now,” Rus begged. Bright tears were streaming down his face and dripping down, swirling into the splatters of silver left by his leaking soul like creamer into coffee. “i want you inside me.”

His pussy all but snapped back into place, soaked and eager, the narrow passage clenching visibly, and Edge almost fell between his legs. His hands were shaking, need tangled with desperation as he took Rus’s mouth fiercely, shoving his tongue between his teeth to share his own dark, sweet taste. Edge reached down to fumble open his pants, guiding his cock between those swollen, drenched lips and started pushing in. Rus cried out, the sound lost within their kiss, his fingers digging into Edge’s shoulders through his shirt as Edge forced his cock deep, riding the slickness of his pussy and driving into Rus’s pliant body in a brutal rhythm.

Neither of them were going to last. Rus was nearly sobbing in his pleasure at each vicious thrust, squirming as he reached between them. Not for his clit as Edge first thought but into his own abdominal cavity and Edge strangled out a disgraceful sound as Rus squeezed his cock through the thin sheath of his own magic with both hands. There was no holding back after that, relentlessly driving into Rus’s pussy and grip as one, and every thrust came with a slick, obscene sound, matched by the desperate cries gurgling through Rus’s clenched teeth. 

Edge’s grunt caught in his throat as he came, glottal and thick, and he watched greedily through narrowed sockets as his magic filled Rus, glistening crimson flowing inside of him, staining him with his claim. His sockets clenched shut without Edge’s permission, unable to bear the wracking pleasure of it as he shook and jerked, unbearable ecstasy shaking him to his very core. 

He collapsed, sagging down on Rus even as he struggled to keep the bulk of his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing him into the cushions. Even so, Rus only clung to him, breathless beneath Edge’s weight while refusing to let him go. 

His wits were still scattered to the four corners of the room when clapping came from behind them, mockingly polite. “nice show, gonna have an encore?”

They turned as one to see Red leaned against the wall dressed only in his shorts. His joints were lit with deep scarlet, matching the burning of his eye lights and his grin was a slash across his face, wide and eager.

"You're late, brother,” Edge panted, struggling out from between Rus’s legs. The hitched sound Rus made as he withdrew sent a pulse of regretful guilt through his soul, but there was nothing for it. As he pulled out, crimson oozed from between Rus’s pussy lips, staining the sofa cushion beneath him that was already streaked orange and silver and Edge did not care. He rolled over to face his brother instead, asking with mocking sweetness, “Finally decided to wake up after I already wore him out?”

Red snorted. “ain’t a sinner or saint who could sleep through that racket and i ain’t either.” His crimson gaze moved over them greedily. “but he do look tired. trying to win a marathon on his belly?”

“i’m not that worn out,” Rus grumbled, the words belied by the way he struggled to sit up, his limbs wobbly and disobedient. “if you want to give it, i can take it.”

Red’s gaze dropped and Edge knew he was taking in those swollen pussy lips, like bruised petals surrounding a battered flower. He flicked an accusing glance at Edge who could only flush guiltily, but that annoyed gaze didn’t linger, went straight back to Rus as he said, smoothly, “honey love, you know i never like to turn down a chance to give it to you good—"

“your pillow talk could use some work, short stuff,” Rus snorted.

“i’ll work on it when we get some pillows out here,” Red blithely continued even as he prowled closer to the sofa. “anyway, love to nail you good, honey, but my magic ain’t quite up to it. i might be a little prick but i ain’t interested in using one.”

It was a reasonable excuse, one that Rus might even believe, particularly when Red lifted a hand, waggling his fingers teasingly. “mind if we take the scenic route?”

“any road trip with you is bound to be interesting,” Rus wriggled back into the cushions, dragging his own fingers across his spread femurs and smearing the colorful array of fluids across his lovely bones. “better get in the driver’s seat.”

Edge shifted back, easing away to sit in the other corner of the sofa, already anticipating a remarkably interesting show as Red crawled up onto the sofa.

Then he was clawing uneven holes into the cushions, a ragged, shocked cry escaping him because instead of joining Rus, Red swooped in to lick at Edge’s softened cock, his hot mouth startlingly gentle on the soft organ. It might even have been considered soothing if it weren't his _brother's mouth_ on him. Edge jerked convulsively, unable to pull away and only able to lie there watching in sheer disbelief as his brother mouthed him. There was a brief moment of suction, the warning prickle of jagged teeth and then as quickly as he pounced, Red pulled away, licking away smears of honey-gold and red from his teeth with a lascivious tongue. 

"sorry, bro,” Red purred, low and gravely as a stray tomcat. “you needed a little cleaning too. didn't want any of that honey to go to waste.”

Edge said nothing, staring speechlessly at his brother before his eye lights flicked to Rus who was watching wide sockets. Rus squeezed his sockets shut, shivering deeply and clenching his thighs together, bones rattling as he quivered, and a low cry hissed out between his newly clenched teeth.

“Did you just come?” Edge demanded in disbelief. If so, he was honestly impressed by it; to come untouched and not even on the heels of the last orgasm was delightfully needy, even considering what set Rus off.

Honey-gold color bloomed across Rus’s entire face like wildfire. He tried cover it with both his hands, but skeletal fingers were hardly a barrier. His joints were already lit with renewed arousal and he drew his knees together, but it didn’t hide the generous rush of golden dampness slicking his inner thighs. 

Red's grin widened, tongue lolling eagerly out. "hm, looks like i better get to drivin'."

Edge only swallowed hard, sinking back to watch as his brother ran a gentle finger up softly bruised folds that were colorfully tinted with Edge’s come. Rus’s hands fell away from his face, revealing sockets sank to half-mast as he arched, stuttering out a ragged cry and if Edge ended up with his own hand back on his achingly hard cock, jerking himself off and coming in hot spurts into the cup of his own hand as he watched them together, he had no one to blame but himself for not joining them. 

He sat there watching them, watched as Rus’s eye lights hazed in ecstasy, watched as Red’s tongue pushed between swollen pussy lips again and again, until he’d licked away all of Edge’s come and there was only the sticky gold slipping from Rus’s entrance in shining wet droplets. Edge watched as Rus’s magic finally dropped to acceptable levels and he sagged back, exhausted, all but clutching Red to his chest when he crawled up to lay tiredly next to Rus, the both of them falling trustingly into sleep with Edge’s gaze still upon them.

He only moved to cover them with a soft blanket, tucking it around their bare, damp bones and when Rus began to whimper in his sleep, trembling, Edge sat next to them, gently petting the delicate curve of Rus’s skull, whispering to him that it was all right, that he was safe.

Red slept on obliviously, even as Edge cupped his skull in his other hand, a hand on each of them. He kept his touch light, gentle, fighting off the urge to pull them both fiercely into his arms, to never let them go.

 _I would take you both away from here, if I could._ An unwelcome, useless thought and Edge dismissed it ruthlessly. He was no traitor to the crown or to the Angel, he was Chosen and here was where he belonged, watching over them. 

Keeping them safe, from anything at all. 

-fin


	8. Safety In Numbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red knows how to play the game. The only problem is, not everyone gets out unscathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! 
> 
> This chapter has some descriptions of past injuries and ongoing recovery, please be warned!

* * *

Refuge. 

That was what Toriel named the protected Monster settlement that rose up at the base of the mountain, for all the Monsters who either couldn’t or wouldn’t live in Ebott. 

Red supposed if there was nothing else, they could all thank her for sparing them from whatever dumb shit Ass-gore would’ve called it, like New New Home.

Despite all the treaties and negotiations, there were plenty of Monsters still living there. Some found that once they set their feet on the grass, they were about as far away from the mountain as they cared to get. Some were plain afraid to live out amongst the Humans. And a fair few simply weren’t allowed to leave, their little laminated ID cards didn’t grant them clearance through the front gate. Monsters with LV, Monsters with an appearance that might be considered disturbing. Any Monster likely to hit a ten on the Human freak-o-meter wasn’t allowed out. Not yet, anyway. Made sense, really. If they scared the shit out of the Humies by going too fast, they’d be lucky if they only ended up chased back beneath the mountain and not used as potting soil.

Try telling that to the dumbfucks, though. Red kept an ear hole close to the ground for any incoming gossip and from what was coming down the line it looked like the Assholes of Asgore were using it as a recruiting point. Red suspected that they didn’t only have the interest of one or two disgruntled folks. 

Anyone with half a lick of sense should see through their bullshit, but if Red was supposed to count on any of the dipshits he knew underground having common sense, he might as well shove a bone through his own soul now and spare anyone else the trouble of dusting him. 

Their real goal was to start the bloody war Asgore promised them all and if they managed it, well, it was gonna be a pretty damn short one. Magic was handy dandy, all right, but the Humans kinda outnumbered them a million to one. Hell, while they’d been down below twiddling their thumbs, the Humans figured out their own version of magic, one that was a fuckton more explosive than anything Monsters had on tap. If Red was a betting man, and he was, thanks, he knew which odds he was putting down on.

Red looked out the tinted window of the car driving him through the newly paved streets of Refuge, watching the scenery pass by. Much as he hated being chauffeured around, these days he didn’t have a whole lot of choice. Back when he was training in the guard, there was still some opportunity to skulk around. Strip away his uniform and its delta rune crest, and he was only another Monster with a shitty attitude wandering into Grillby’s for a drink. 

Being Chosen took away any chance he had of wandering around unnoticed. Even if Red slipped away from Rus, his face was too well-known now and probably rated a solid six on the Humies freak-o-meter.

If he thought the chucklefucks throwing themselves at Rus’s feet begging for blessings were annoying, it was a damn sight worse when they tried that shit on him. As if he had any say in the way the Universe trundled on down the road. He wasn’t the one second in the queue to chat with the Angel, thanks, and none of the Divine had seen fit to give him their direct line. 

Shame Edge didn’t let him fuck with them; a few broken fingers and a bruise or two might give them all a little peace, but eh, his bro was a spoilsport that way. His own fault for leaving the kid on his own years ago while he skulked off to join the guard, instead of sticking around to teach him what’s what. Edge’s code of morals didn’t line up so much with Red’s anymore and wasn’t that a bitch. 

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and shook one out, ignoring the sour look the driver gave him in the rearview mirror. They didn’t say a peep, though, kept whatever words they wanted to say locked up tight behind their tusks. Being Chosen did have a few perks other than risking his life and getting to spend plenty of quality time communing with Rus’s pussy. 

Red lit the cigarette with a harsh rasp of his lighter, took a long drag of smoke and breathed it out as he leaned his skull against the cool window glass, watching the blurred landscape. The streets were lined with cheaply made carbon-copy houses, but there wasn’t a whole lotta room to complain about that. The first few months most of ‘em spent huddled in patched-up tents given to them by the reluctant Human government, miserable in the spring rain and mud that tried to suck off your shoes with every step. Far as Red was concerned, all Monsters should be damned grateful for a house to call their own and if someone wanted their place shaped like a fucking fish, they were gonna have to wait their turn.

Yeah, lots of Monsters struggled when they hit sunshine, trying to wrap their minds around everything that happened. Red wasn’t one of them. He’d been Chosen only days after his boots hit the ground, but he’d spent some time out in the mudholes, searching out threats against his freshly appointed Judge. He’d learned a few useful tricks before putting on a uniform and they sure did come in handy from time to time.

These days, Red didn’t get out as much anymore. Maybe if Rus had more Chosen than only him and Edge, he could’ve kept up with it, but it hadn’t worked out that way. The kid needed him, all of him, and that was that.

Inconvenient, yeah, but probably just as well. Kept him from having to hold the lid down on his boiling need to shiv anyone who fucking dared touch what was his. He played nice enough when it came to all the unity mumbo jumbo bullshit, the Judge was an avatar of the Angel, the Judge belonged to the people, yeah, sure, he’d toe the party line. 

But when it came to laying hands on his boy there was only one other Monster with the right. He was as much Red’s as Rus was and that’d be true until the day Red shivered to dust.

So, yeah, he couldn’t do the footwork himself anymore, eh, sucks to suck. Instead, he was forced to rely on other Monsters to keep him rolling in that sweet, sweet info. He’d vetted all of them himself, checked into every detail of their lives all the way back to the day they dropped from their mama’s cooch. Every single one of them was loyal as fuck to the Angel and as willing to spy on each other as they were anyone else, and that right there helped weed out most of the trouble. Wasn’t a perfect method, but it usually worked pretty well and let Red keep his fingers hooked into a few pies. That was, whenever he could pull 'em out of Rus's desserts.

Right now, all his people were working overtime, trying to dig up some dirt on how those fuckers managed to get into the cafeteria to take a pot shot at Rus. When they finally got something concrete, Red planned to deal with it personally, and if Rus ended up giving him a Judging look over it, he didn’t much give a shit. He was Chosen _for_ the Judge, to protect them in every way possible and if the Angel was having second thoughts about it, She could stop by and deal with it herself. 

None of that had shit to do with what he was up to today. 

The house his car pulled up in front of was as unremarkable as the rest, a cookie-cutter copy with different curtains and a doormat. The driveway was empty but that didn’t mean shit. He already knew they were home, had to be, because they never damn well left.

“stay here,” Red ordered the driver. He nodded silently, sodium-yellow eyes meeting Red’s in the rear-view mirror. Red got out, hopping down to the ground from the high seat with a silent grumble. He took a last drag of his cigarette and flicked the butt into the gutter. Straightening his uniform shirt was an automatic to him these days as taking his next breath. Didn’t make Red hate the fucking thing any less and he forced his hands back down as he trudged up the walkway.

He didn’t knock on the front door. Instead, he went around to the back of the house where he already knew what he would find. A turn of the corner an expansive garden was spread out before him, filled with neat rows of greenery already creeping their way out of the rich dirt. 

There was a garden in every backyard in Refuge, every one of ‘em planted at the Queen’s command. Part of her plan was making sure that eventually Monsters would be as self-sufficient as possible. Couldn’t depend on the Humies to keep them in clover forever and sure they had some tech deals getting hammered out, but if there was one truth all Monsters knew, it was that G wasn’t food. 

True, it wasn’t a perfect plan; some of those mandatory gardens were pretty fucking sad, brown straggly plants that might cough up a tomato or two before they kacked it. This one, though, was pristine. Red didn’t care about growing shit that couldn’t be rolled up into a blunt and knew even less about it, but even he could see the way all the plants were evenly spaced and that there wasn’t a single weed growing anywhere. Not a stray piece of grass or a single thistle dared peek out of the soil in this garden.

A Monster was kneeling in one of the plots, dressed in overalls and a funny little straw hat, a wagon next to him heaped with tools and paper bags, a small pile weeds who ignored the warning signs. 

Red didn’t actually know Blue real well. When Rus talked about Blue, it was always with a wealth of fondness in his soft voice, often whispering his memories in the darkness of their bedroom whenever insomnia haunted him. 

Whatever sweetness Rus remember in Blue, it was long since eroded away, torn out of him, and whether it was being Chosen, his past Judgement, or Asgore who did it didn’t much matter to the outcome.

He was one of Sans’s early Chosen, back before Red even joined the guard and the few times he’d seen Blue were when he came to assemblies to watch the trainees before they were instated as full guards. Red remembered seeing him those days; dressed to the nines in his uniform, boots polished until a person could see their reflection in them from ten steps away, every crease straight, every button fastened. Seen him a few times from a distance, too, with Sans, always a nice, respectful two steps behind him and looking as if butter wouldn’t melt between his knees. Couldn’t even picture the bastard ever getting bent over a sofa getting fucked by a desperate Judge.

(Sans was more likely to flop back and take a fucking, way back when, all sly smiles and slick pussy, knees spread wide in invitation. Whatever becoming the Judge did to him must’ve given his preferences a good topsy-turvy, ‘cause gossip in the barracks warned all the guards to be prepared for spending plenty of time on their knees)

They’d talked a few more times since then and not a single one of those chats endeared Blue to Red any more than the first.

These days Blue was pretty fucking hard to look at. His skull looked like it’d been busted apart and put back together by hands that didn’t care if the puzzle pieces didn’t fit right, parts of the bone still discolored with char. The empty left sleeve of his shirt was pinned up neatly to his shoulder and the cane leaning against his little wagon wasn’t for show. He’d survived the coup, but not by much, the only one of Sans’s chosen who didn’t die along with him, and there was a memory that Red didn’t like to take out and play with too often. 

Red's team came in far too late, after it was all over but the vacuuming. Breaking through the barred door and walking into the leftovers of a massacre, a mass Judging, no one who’d been in the throne room came out unscathed. Blue the only one still breathing right and Sans…yeah.

Probably a wonder Blue hadn’t offed himself yet.

All that aside, it was a shame that the stick in his pelvis didn’t get yanked out along with his arm. The eye light that lit his less damaged socket was blazing sharp, and he was struggling to his feet the second Red started walking across the yard, snatching up his cane and brandishing it like a sword. 

“What are you doing out here?” Blue demanded loudly. He stormed out of his garden, tracking mud across the carefully shorn grass. “You should be with Rus, he needs to be protected!”

“well, hello to you, too,” Red drawled. He stuck his hands in his pockets carelessly, rocking on his heels. “kid is fine, edge is with him.”

Blue’s dismissive scoff raked across Red’s nerves like the tines of a fork on a cheese grater. “Oh, certainly, with Edge, that’s surely impenetrable protection! Edge wasn’t even a full guard when he was Chosen!”

"might be so, but edge is the one in charge these days. you think i want to be out there handling that shit?" Either Blue wasn’t keeping up with the times or he was just being a prick. Either was possible, but the fact of the matter was that in public, Edge was the boss. His word was law when it came to Rus and it had a lotta spillover onto Toriel. To insinuate that he wasn’t capable of protecting the Judge was an insult about the level of hocking a juicy loogie into Red’s face and if it was anyone else, Red wouldn’t be fussed about getting the dust out of his shoelaces before he headed home. Blue caught the barest hint of a break, for Rus, but he was already fucking pushing it. Still, Red kept his voice carelessly easy, “you sound kinda worried about your bro.”

Blue shed the glove on his remaining hand and pulled a tidy bandanna out of his back pocket, mopping at the sheen of sweat on his shattered skull. “I heard about the attack, of course. Everyone has.”

“yeah?” Red raised a brow bone, reluctantly interested. “hear any useful gossip about it?”

“If I had, you would already know about it,” Blue retorted. He sighed and gestured for Red to follow him, making his staggering way up to the back porch. It was surrounded by flowering bushes, heady perfume overwhelmingly filling the air while bees floated drunkenly from blossom to blossom. Sitting on a little patio table was a carafe of lemonade, lemon slices floating amongst the ice. 

Blue poured two large glasses, pushing one over to Red. He took a long drink, the tartness blotting out the nauseatingly thick reek of the flowers. 

Blue took a sip from his glass, ice cubes rattling, and he dabbed away the thin stream that ran out of his cracked jaw with the bandanna. “I don’t hear most of the gossip, I’m afraid, not anymore. I’m a failed guard, the neighbors don’t exactly stop by for visits and chats.”

“You didn’t fail at shit,” Red retorted sharply. Bullshit was all that was, all because Blue managed to not die.

Red wasn’t fond of Blue, but fuck, he’d had nine toes in the dustpan when they managed to tow him back into the land of the living. He’d fucking well tried and if anyone wanted to toss in their opinion on whether they thought Blue didn’t try hard enough, they were welcome to give Red’s fat one a good ol’ suck.

Blue only let out a humorless laugh. Once, his eye lights had been a starry yellow-blue, showcasing his traits. Patience and justice, pretty good draw for a Chosen companion to the Judge. The one eye light he still had was pale and colorless now, reminiscent of Rus’s, only Blue’s was dull, doughy-blank, showing none of Rus’s vibrancy. Hard to believe anymore that these two were even brothers. 

Curious that Rus’s Choosing gave him a pair of brothers with a matching trait of Determination. Made a person wonder exactly why, but neither the Angel nor the Judge were telling. 

The glass in Blue’s hand rattled against his trembling fingers, the bones still yellowed and scorched. “Tell that to Sans.”

“tell him yourself,” Red lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. The cunning little device in his pocket would’ve warned Red if there was any active listening devices around, but Red hadn’t survived as long as he had without harsh lessons in watching his mouth, “i told you before, i can get you up to our rooms, no one’d ever know.”

Blue’s mouth twisted disgustedly. The movement from his jaw pulled the gaping crack over his dead socket grotesquely wider as the first real emotion winked in and out of his eye light in a flash. "And I told you, there is a reason that former Chosen aren’t allowed near the new Judge,” Blue slammed down his glass, a wave of lemonade slopping over his damaged fingers. “There's no telling how he'd react if he saw me! If he recalled I was once Chosen, he might--ugh!” Blue hunched over with a shudder of revulsion, “It's bad enough that you and your brother are servicing him."

“you questioning the judge’s choice?” Red said coolly, just this side of waspish. He didn't really give a good shit what Blue thought of it, especially considering Red’s reasons for being here to begin with, but he did wonder what Blue would think if he knew Sans popped out for a recent visit. Whispered a coupla sweet nothings while he jammed Rus’s prick East bejesus up Red’s cunt. The memory made a slick of wetness form at Red’s crotch and he shoved the memory back. Not the time and he stuffed that little reminiscence back where the one of his brother’s cock in his mouth lived, the knowledge of how it felt, soft and slick with his own come and Rus’s, carefully tucked into the furthest corner of his mind.

That tart question struck the dartboard in a bullseye. Blue faltered like he’d been jabbed right in the tailbone, sputtering out, “No, of course not, but—" He recovered, straightening his spine and that cool soldier’s expression dropped over his face, the stick in his ass jammed straight. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is the damage it could cause my brother to see me, so you can stop asking, the answer is no, it’ll always be no.”

“whatever you say,” Red shrugged, ‘cause he didn’t care, not really. Except for how desperately Rus wanted to see his fucking brother, just once, one last time. The brother he’d missed out saying goodbye to between Blue’s unconsciousness and him being Chosen. Any other Judge at least got a chance to say fare thee well and the fact that Rus lost the opportunity was just one more bar in Rus’s prison, caged in, body and soul. 

Blue’s answer was about what he’d expected though, and that was fine. Another useless attempt to get him to the Embassy wasn’t Red’s real reason for coming. 

“not really here about you anyway, pipsqueak,” Red said, letting the words fall lightly. “i heard papyrus is staying here with you these days.” 

That little tidbit of gossip came through the vine in the wee hours last night, Red checking his phone with Rus sleeping peacefully beside him, Edge on the far side. He’d spent the rest of the night lying awake, cold fury thrumming in his soul and that was the real reason Red came all the fucking way out here for a little face to face chat. “shacking up with sans’s little brother, huh, that sure must be something.”

Papyrus was only a kid when Sans was chosen as Judge, still in striped shirts and missing his two front teeth. Biggest difference between him and Edge was the Crown gave a stipend to the families of Chosen to make up for the loss of income. Papyrus probably never had a hungry day in his life and certainly not after Sans put on the robes. His bro never had to worry if the shit wage he was earning in the guard was gonna be enough to keep a roof over his kid brother’s head or keep him in clothes when he started growing like a weed. Sans didn’t have to set aside enough for a bribe to make sure that whatever G he made actually found its way to his brother and didn’t end up lining the pocket of some greedy deliveryman.

None of that was Papyrus’s fault and sucking on a silver teat didn’t make him miss his brother any less. Kid tried the join the guard a few times and always washed out, only got to try more than once because of who his brother was. Red wondered morbidly what Blue’s stuck up, sanctimonious ass would’ve thought if Papyrus had gotten into the guard and Sans Chose him.

Now it was looking like that stick in Blue’s ass didn’t keep him from inviting Papyrus between the sheets.

Whatever color was in Blue’s skull leached away, the bone dulling to chalky white, and taking with it any hope that Blue wasn’t using that kid as a dim replacement. His gaze skittered away, hunted, skipping around the yard, looking for fuck knew what. For Sans to step out of the void with shrieking admonishments, for a stray bolt of lightning to finally strike him down and send Blue after those who went before him. There was nothing, only Red standing here holding half a glass of decent lemonade in the sunshine so many died to get.

There was nowhere else for that look to go, no escape, and finally Blue reluctantly looked at Red again. He said, raw and stiffly, “There’s nothing against the code about that.”

“no, there ain’t,” Red agreed, softly. He only met Blue’s solitary eye light evenly. Red couldn’t see into Blue’s soul but he fucking well hoped Blue felt his sins crawling their leisurely way up his spine. 

Red set his lemonade down carefully before he gave into the urge to toss it glass and all right into Blue’s broken face. He turned away and started back around the house, barely off the patio when Blue called his name. 

“Red?” Blue struggled for words finally asked, plaintively. “Is he happy?”

Almost Red wanted to tell Blue that they kept Rus well fucked. That his little bro looked good stuffed with cock on both ends, that he sucked dick with the expertise of a thousand G whore.

But he wasn’t about to talk about Rus like that, not even to get one up on his shitheel brother. “i like to think so. he’s a real sweetheart.”

Red made no mention of the almost desperate adoration that rose up in his soul that came from only thinking about Rus. That wasn’t for sharing time.

“Yes,” Blue said. His hoarse voice was low, subdued, “he always was. Take good care of him?”

Better than you could, Red did not say. “want me to give him a message or anything?”

Blue’s melancholy faded and he shook his head immediately, "Judges are forbidden from _any_ contact by a former Chosen or family, and I’m both. You know this.” He sounded like he was reading straight from the guard manual. 

If Rus hadn’t been Chosen, he’d be here right now taking care of his piece of shit brother. Standing back helplessly while Blue fucked the old Judge’s kid brother and pretended he was someone else, and Red was a selfish enough bastard to be glad he wasn’t. “you’re right, i do. so is there?”

Blue only lifted his chin and it was a damn good thing he wasn’t a Judge, because his single eye light was loaded with resentful judgement. “No. There’s nothing I could tell him that he wouldn’t already know.”

Yeah, just as well Rus was Chosen. Blue didn’t fucking deserve to have his brother here with him. 

Wasn’t a fucking thing Red could do about Papyrus; he was out of stripes and kid was gonna have to make his own bad decisions and what was Red gonna do about it anyway? Take him back home like a stray puppy he found on the streets? Tell him that he didn’t have to settle for Sans’s leftovers, remind him that it wasn’t Sans’s idea to leave any of them? That he didn’t need to live here, the two of them burying themselves into a dusty tomb that Sans wasn’t even in. 

He wondered what Papyrus was getting out of it. If he was closing his sockets and played his own version of pretend. 

He wondered why he even cared. Why had he come out here to Refuge, really?

“tell paps i said hi,” Red said finally, “ain’t nothing against that in the code, either.”

“I will.”

Red turned on his heel and headed back to the car before he said something he wouldn’t regret, but would hurt Rus if he ever heard about it. He lit a cigarette before they’d even pulled away from the curb and by the time they got back to the Embassy, he’d smoked his way through the entire pack.

* * *

When Red got back to their quarters, he was too fucking tired for the early hour of the day and faintly nauseous from too much nicotine. He closed the door carefully behind him, resetting all the alarms. His joints ached like all his frustrations seeped out of his soul and settled into them. 

In their living area, Rus and Edge were sitting on opposite sofas, playing some kind of stupid card game. Rus was choosing to stay home for a few days, barring a Judgement, and that was the only reason Red felt comfortable enough to leave the two of them alone, anyway. 

Kid didn’t want to endanger anyone else, perfectly reasonable response to what happened, but they couldn’t hide away in here forever. Rus needed fresh air and sunshine. He needed his meditation gardens, not the weedy looking herbs Edge grew on the narrow windowsill for his cooking.

That meant Red needed to go over the intel his contacts were sending along. Search for reoccurring names, patterns, anything that’d lead him to the end of this snake so he could chop off the head. 

Needed to, yeah, but it’d have to wait. Right now, his head wasn’t exactly in the game. He’d left too much of his mind behind in Refuge, turning that chat over and over, trying to find a chink, a solution that didn’t exist. 

Probably better to get settled so he didn’t miss a trick, yeah, that was the ticket. All Red wanted right now was some manufactured forgetfulness and he wanted to get started making it right now. 

“welcome back,” Rus called cheerily. He only glanced at Red, pale eye lights filled with warm greeting, before turning back to the cards in his hand with a little frown. 

That gave Red a chance to discreetly run a mental inventory of his honey. Rus was looking good today. There was some color back into his bones, his pristine skull glossy with health. His magic was leveling out to its normal slower upward trickle. Hell, at a glance he was damn right perky, and that made it hard not to appreciate how fucking _pretty_ he was. His long robes were discarded in favor of a pair of soft, loose pants and a t-shirt to match, bare feet tucked under his knees and a hint of his clavicles peeking tantalizingly over the neckline, begging for a mouth to give ‘em a taste. 

Just seeing Rus like that leached some of the aching tension out of Red’s soul, trading it out for relief.

It was tempting to step up right then, but Red hung back, waiting for them to finish their game. When Rus wasn't giving Judgments, what he was mostly was bored. There was only so much meditating and bonding with the spirits or whatever the shit that anyone could do. Protecting the Judge was the focus of their job, the most important thing, but it wasn’t the only one. The other part of their bit was plain taking care of Rus and that included entertainment. 

Sex might be an easy way to knock out two birds with one dick, but it couldn’t be the _only_ thing. 

Their living room was lined with shelves filled to the brim with books and blu-rays, video game consoles and board games, anything to help Rus pass the day and hopefully forget that the sunshine his brother nearly died to get for their people couldn’t really be his. 

“What were you off doing anyway?” Rus asked absently. His attention was mostly on the game, sockets narrowed, and across from him, Edge only waited patiently, the slightest hint of a smirk curving his mouth. Rus didn’t seem too worried about Red taking a field trip, it did happen from time to time.

His brother was probably less than pleased that Red took off without a word as to where he was going other than a hastily scrawled note of ‘back soon’, but eh, Red could take that medicine when he had to.

There was a split-second choice to be made here, whether to tell Rus the truth of where he’d gone or not. With only a couple words, Red could make sure Rus never wanted to see his brother again…and taint every past memory he clung to in the process. Almost did it anyway; Red was an old hand at cleaning up all kinds of messes, he could handle one more. The only thing that held his tongue was thinking of Rus’s grief, the choking tears streaming down his pretty face, and his memory of his brother would end up just one more thing he’d lost. 

Only this time it would be Red doing the taking. 

Fuck it, if the Angel wanted Rus to know about it, She could do the dirty work.

“nothing important, darlin’,” Red said smoothly, and that was true enough. 

Rus didn’t notice anything amiss, but Edge gave him a narrow, suspicious look. Eh, he’d catch his bro up on things soon enough. Now wasn’t the time. For once, Edge wasn’t buttoned from his clavicles to his toes in his uniform, instead dressed in soft pants and a sweatshirt that was a hair too tight, probably from Rus’s side of the closet. Probably meant they’d spent some cuddle time on the sofa before starting up on the game or at least Red hoped so. He might watch the cameras later. Just to make sure.

His wandering thoughts were coagulating, coming back together in his skull and Red was already wondering what kind of distraction he could come up with to tug their attention from the cards when he heard it. Faintly, the familiar, hollow sound of a constant buzzing against bone.

Well, now, this _was_ getting interesting, now wasn’t it.

“care to fill me in on the rules to this game?” Red drawled. He leaned against the sofa arm and treated himself to a more in-depth perusal of them both. Nothing unusual leapt out at him, not yet. 

“it’s pretty simple,” Rus said. His cards were fanned out messily in his slim hands, a disorderly array of suits. “whoever loses a round has to wear a vibrator in the next round. winner gets to put the vibrator wherever they want.”

Huh. Rus sounded a little more disgruntled than that called for. Kid was an ace at counting cards, it was a little surprising he’d even persuaded Edge to play. “sounds fun.”

“i thought so too,” Rus said, shooting Edge a sulky look. “only edge doesn’t even work up a sweat, no matter where i put it. i’ve tried it behind his sternum, his sacrum, pubic arch. i'm about ready to toss it into his eye socket and let it rattle around in his skull for a while, see if that shakes him up.”

Edge laid the queen of spades on top of the card pile and said placidly, “My apologies for my self-control being so boring.”

Boring, huh. Red looked his brother up and down calculatingly. The little details were there if a person knew how to look. Eye lights barely hazed, the slightest hitch to his too-even breathing. He was a little worked up, but Rus wasn't lying, he still looked like an ice cube wouldn't melt in his shorts. 

Meanwhile, Rus was pouting unhappily, his pretty smile turned upside down, and that just couldn’t be allowed, now could it. An idea perked up in the back of Red’s mind, ripe with possibilities, and Rus would go for it no question. Whether Edge would was dependent on how happy he wanted to make Rus, which usually fell under ‘a lot’. The odds were good, and Red never shied from a good bet.

Red leaned in and settled a wandering hand on Rus’s knee, sliding lightly up his inner thigh and snagging his attention. "how about we play another kind of game, honey."

Rus immediately looked wary, but Red wasn't offended. Couldn't blame him; Rus'd played Red’s games before, good on him for taking the lesson to heart. 

"what game?" Rus asked suspiciously.

"Doesn’t anyone want to know if I want to play a new game?" Edge asked no one in particular. They ignored him.

Red rose up on his toes and laid a soft kiss on Rus’s mouth, lingering a little too long over that sweetness before he reluctantly drew back. “lemme get changed first then we'll talk. you go on ahead and finish that round.” 

He strolled off, whistling cheerfully. The day was already looking up.

In their shared bedroom Red stripped out of his uniform, carelessly dropping it to the floor for Edge to bitch over later. A pair of well-worn shorts and a t-shirt was a decent match to the wardrobe choices of two brats out there, and made for easier access and cleanup. Ready Freddy, except for one thing. 

Red knelt down and dug out a small box hidden underneath their bed, grabbed a little something that might come in handy right soon. He tucked it into his pocket, shoving it deep enough not to arouse (heh) suspicions.

Edge was picking up the cards when Red came back out, tucking them back into the box. The previously unseen vibrator was sitting innocently on the coffee table as if Red couldn’t see the faint traces of crimson that’d been hastily wiped away. 

Red crawled up on the sofa next to Rus and held out an arm, pretended that his soul didn’t give a solid throb as Rus immediately snuggled in against him happily. The kid rolled over on his back, his skull in Red’s lap, looking up at him with bright curiosity in those pale eye lights as he said, “c’mon, red, tell me!”

That pout was back and Red took a moment to lean down and quickly kiss it away, allowing only a brief flicker of their tongues together before he pulled back. He stroked the smooth bone of Rus’s forehead lightly, soothingly, “all right, honey love, here’s the game. you got five minutes to get edge to come, however you can. if you don’t get it done in the allotted time, i get five minutes to make him come. winner gets the prize.”

As he’d guessed, Rus’s eye lights immediately blew wide, briefly tinging golden in an abrupt surge of desire. It faded quick enough, Rus struggling to hold it back, but the cat was out of the bag now, wasn’t it.

Across the way, Edge barely stifled a sharp, startled sound, but if he had an opinion about Red’s little suggestion, he kept it to himself. 

The rest of Red’s words seemed to have wormed their way past that first thoughtless rush and Rus was frowning again, “that's not fair. if i lose, he'll already be all worked up for you.”

Red leaned down and gave him a light kiss in reward for figuring that out. “ah, but see, difference is, i don't get to touch him. no bone on bone for me, sweetheart, i promise.”

Mollified, Rus settled back. “what do i get if i win?”

“you get to ask a favor of me, anything at all.”

Poor kid was gonna get whiplash the way he kept flipflopping from interest to disappointment. “i can already do that.”

“yeah, but you don’t.” Red pointed out, “you never do. this one you’d earn fair and square, might make it easier if you’re spending your own dime rather than the inheritance.”

Rus nodded slowly, understanding coupled with intrigue lighting his face, “and if you win?”

“same deal, i get to ask one thing from you. anything i want.” That win or lose Rus was gonna enjoy himself thoroughly was heavily implied. 

“anything,” Rus murmured, rolling the word around in his mouth, giving it a good taste, but before he could decide if he liked the flavor, another bargainer stepped up to the table. 

“I have a question,” Edge said, coolly.

Red glanced at his brother meaningfully, met crimson eye lights that were a match his own. Edge was sitting on the opposite sofa, his arms crossed over his chest. The line of his jaw was tense, teeth gritted together, but that wasn’t distaste or reluctance on his face, not one fucking bit. He waited to see if his bro would beg off or outright refuse. They’d teeter-tottered around into a little touchy feely a long time ago, didn’t matter so long as it helped get Rus off. They'd been ramping it up lately, but this was a horse of a different color, deliberate red on red without a buffer of honeyed gold between them.

He was counting on his brother not to disappoint.

“what’s that, bro?” Red asked.

Edge’s crimson tongue flicked out over his teeth, an almost imperceptible hint at nervousness. "What do I get if neither of you get me to come?"

Oh yeah, that was his bro. 

"ah, that’s easy,” Red said lightly, “favor is all yours, little brother. from both of us."

Red looked back down at Rus and he could about see the gears turning in his mind. He was a smart kid, even smarter when you took into account all the Judges in creation playing house in the back of his mind. He was trying to work out what kind of monkey's paw bullshit Red wove into the bargain, but looked like he wasn't finding anything cause all he said was, decisively, "deal.”

“Deal,” Edge agreed softly. He stood and turned on his heel, walking out. Came back only a minute later with a couple towels over one arm, fucking neat freak. He spread them out on the sofa then shed his clothes, folding each piece neatly as he stripped it off. Edge wasn’t anywhere near as pretty as Rus, his bones were thicker with none of the delicacy that was laced into their lover’s, pocked with scars from the years before he was in the guard and the training alike. Strong bone that could take a beating and had, bearing the marks of a survivor and warm pride flowed over Red like syrup, like the honey he so often named Rus.

Edge’s joints were already lit with mana, either from the earlier vibrator or the recent chat, and a cloud of it filled his pelvic cradle, a thunderstorm of brimming desire. He settled back on the sofa, long legs stretched out, and said, mockingly sweet, “Ready when you are.”

A hasty search found lube where it was thoughtful stowed under one of the cushions and Rus drizzled it over his slim hands, rubbing them together until the slender bones were glossy and slick. “summon your cock first, give me something to work with.”

Edge tutted in disappointment, shaking his head, “Asking for a concession already?”

“everyone knows you don’t start a game without setting up the pieces first,” Rus countered, waggling his slippery fingers teasingly.

“he’s got you there, bro,” Red chuckled, amusement mingled with a peculiar sort of relief. All the nastiness of the day was flowing away, dirty water down the drain, simply by being around these two sassy shits. “don’t you think he deserves a little head start?”

Nice to see that Red wasn’t the only one who weakened under a pair of wide, pleading eye lights. Edge softened like sweet butter left on the stovetop. The swirl of his magic solidified, his cock formed between his femurs, already heavy and hard, a formidable piece of equipment that Edge usually put to good use. Rus reached out with dripping hands, only waiting when Red called out.

“hold up.” Red pulled out his phone, setting the timer, “okay, rus…go!”

Red settled back into the throw pillows to watch the show, one hand slithering down the front of his shorts, hard phalanges idle against his pubic crest where his magic was settling humidly. Wasn’t any part of the bet against him coming and Red was all ready to hit the concession stand.

Rus didn’t waste any time, both hands already curled around Edge’s shaft, spreading the slippery lube until the scarlet ectoflesh was glistening wetly. The rhythmic sound was wickedly obscene, startlingly loud over Rus’s satisfied hum. 

There was no reaction at all from Edge, his eye lights barely flickered as Rus stroked him. Even when Rus frowned determinedly, kneeling between Edge’s spread legs, tongue already eagerly extended. He lapped softly at the little jewel of scarlet fluid beading at the head of Edge’s cock before sucking the length of it down with a messy slurp.

“that’s it. little brother,” Red called, smirking as Edge only hissed out a breath, keeping stubbornly still, “don’t make it too easy for him.”

It was a helluva show, to put it mildly, worth it even if by some random chance Red lost the game. Rus was pulling out all the stops, using every dirty, wicked trick he’d been taught between them about giving head and a couple made up on the spot. The long, flexible length of his tongue wrapped around the shaft, a thumb and forefinger surrounding the base, following the tight rhythm of Rus’s head. Mouth sloppy wet, golden spit sliding down his chin and wetting his hand as Rus sucked Edge in deep, his formed throat bobbing as he swallowed, formed muscles massaging the hard length. His free hand wandered wherever it could reach, seeking out places he knew were sensitive. Rus had mapped out their bodies with those shy, nimble fingers of his too many times to count, committing their every twitch to memory, and now he was tweaking cartilage, fondling up the length of Edge’s spine, teasing at his floating ribs.

All the little details put together a fine picture; Rus’s ass in the air, his clothed pelvis wriggling enticingly as he worked. Muffled whimpers were spilling into the air from him around the cock filling his mouth, garbled pleading, and Edge sure as fuck wasn’t unaffected now. 

Sweat decorated his skull like glittery sequins as Edge breathed hard through his nasal cavity, his tongue caught between his jagged teeth hard enough that a thin rill of crimson was spilling down his chin. His knees jerked slightly with each bob of Rus’s head, bones clattering softly. A raw groan escaped Edge, hinting at desperation at the exact moment the timer buzzed, shifting to a pained gasp as Rus pulled off with slow deliberation, giving the head a last teasing suck. 

Rus sighed in mock disappointment, wiping at his mouth fruitlessly with the back of his hand and only succeeding in smearing the mingled gold and crimson fluids. “damn it, guess i lost.”

“guess you did,” Red slid down to the floor with less grace than he would’ve liked, knees wobbly and his own arousal settled heavily into his pelvis. “have a seat, honey, watch the master at work.”

Mischief flittered over Rus’s face, far too quick for anything but a warning. He caught hold of the front of Red’s shirt and yanked him in, forcing his sex-tainted tongue down Red’s throat. The taste was one he knew all too well, honey sweetness mellowed with spice, rich and addictive. 

A last delicate swipe of his tongue and Rus sashayed away, snagging one of the pillows to curl around while he settled in for his turn to watch.

Red licked the back of his teeth, catching the last of that tang before it faded completely. Yeah, Rus was gonna pay for that. 

Or maybe Red needed to thank him, because Edge was watching them hotly with a riveted gaze, a thread of crimson fluid leaking from the tip of his cock to stain the towel.

He didn’t quite flinch as Red crawled up on the cushions, keeping a careful distance from his brother’s bare bones. There was a certain fraught quality to Edge’s expression, a feral wildness like he might bolt away.

“close your sockets, bro,” Red told him, gently. Which meant of course that Edge did no such thing, contrary bastard.

“Why?” Edge said suspiciously. His gaze flicked down Red’s body helplessly to where his dick was pushing out the front of his shorts, then away, then back to Red’s face, the color blooming his cheekbones lovelier than any flower in Refuge. 

Thoughts like that weren’t gonna help Red win the game and he shoved it aside, adding it to his growing collection of ‘ain’t thinking about it’.

“because i fucking told you to,” Red retorted, “that’s why. now play the game right.”

“I don’t recall following orders being in the rules,” Edge grumbled, but this time he did as he was told. 

Red waited until he was sure those sockets were closed tight, not the faintest hint of crimson showing. Then he reached into his pocket for his special toy surprise. 

This particular prize wasn't from their normal toybox since Rus didn't have a lot of interest in his cock. That might be changing, he'd give it a thought some other time. The toy was made of a gelatinous material was only slightly softer than ectoflesh, formed into a hollow sheath that was lined with small bumps and curving grooves designed stimulate, drag out every drop of pleasure possible, willingly or otherwise.

The expected cries of cheating didn’t come and Red flicked a glance at Rus to find him watching with wide, rapturous sockets, face flushed golden bright. One arm was wrapped so tightly around the pillow the fabric threatened to burst and his other hand pressed between his legs overtop his pants, fingers digging in helplessly as if he could stop his cunt from forming by sheer, physical will.

The audience was waiting, the timer was set. Time to get this game started. Red scooped up the depleted bottle of lube and squirted a dollop into the sheath and with one motion, deftly slid it down on his brother’s dick.

The reaction was gratifying. Edge’s hips lurched up wildly, his sockets flying open, hands curled into claws that very nearly latched onto Red’s skull before they abruptly diverted and clenched into the sofa cushions. 

"You said no touching!" Edge hissed, crimson eye lights flashing as he trembled with outrage. His sharpened fingertips dug into the cushions, tearing through the fabric down to the memory foam. 

“i ain't touching you a bit, baby brother,” Red crooned, and tightened his fist around the sheath, giving it a quick, vigorous stroke. Those bumps had to be digging in, massaging their way up and down with each rub.

Edge gasped wetly, squeezing his sockets shut, "Don't call me that!"

The other sofa creaked and Red slanted a glance at Rus who was halfway to his feet, reaching out weakly and conflicting emotions tangled across his face. “red, stop," Rus said, trembling but firm. "not if he doesn't want it."

Red only chuckled darkly, dragging his clenched fist down achingly slow, then up abruptly again, "oh, don’t you worry, honey, he wants it. don't you?"

Edge said nothing, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he struggled to keep his pelvis still while Red jerked him off through the thin barrier of the sheath. Looked like the trap might need a little more bait. 

Red leaned in closer, careful not to so much as graze his brother’s strong, scarred bones, and whispered, low and harsh, "you remember the first time you fucked him? the way he was spread out under you, begging you to take him?”

This time his brother’s breath creaked out like the hinge of an old door as Red kept it up, murmuring breathily close to his auditory canal, “remember pushing your cock into that pretty virgin pussy? how it was already dripping with my come, how tight he was around your cock? kinda like this, yeah, remember him cryin' cause he needed it so much? how scared he was, showing us his soul? sweet thing all dripping wet, he needed it so bad, the mess he made, oh, that honey magic and silver, practically squirting over himself the second you touched his clit, remember that? you remember how he looked when he came?"

He kept up the relentless pace with every low word, letting the memory warm him. There was a certain charm to clumsy eagerness, inexperienced hands searching unknowingly for all the places that felt best. Not that Red missed it exactly, but he sure didn’t mind bringing that memory out to play with from time to time.

Edge was struggling, heaving, his eye lights narrowed to pinpricks as he stared blindly up at the ceiling. 

Almost there, almost, and Red leaned in close enough for Edge to feel the heat of his breath, a bare whisper too low for Rus to possibly hear him, "remember the first time he said he loved us?"

That did the trick. Edge let out a wretched sound like a sob, bones rattling as he came, filling the sheath to overflowing with his seed. Red could feel the surging heat of it through the thin plastic, smelled the rich spice even as the blare of the alarm came from his phone.

Game, set, match.

Red pulled off, tossing the dripping sheath to the coffee table to join the vibrator already there. Edge only lay weakly in his defeat, pelvis smeared with come, the rest of his bones dabbled with sweat. Red left him there to wallow in his filth, prowling over to Rus. 

Who scrabbled back into the corner of the sofa, his sockets so wide it looked like his eye lights were gonna pop loose and fizzle out on the carpet. He fumbled for the phone gracelessly, somehow managing to turn off the warbling timer without dropping it on the floor even as Red raked a look over him. Taking in the heated glow of his joints, the honey-tint to his eye lights, the wet patch seeping through his pants, leaving a darkened stain that clung visibly to his pussy lips.

Yeah, Red had his number now. Looked like their honey had a lil' voyeurism kink going on. That was a new toy Red was looking forward to playing with, fuck yes. But for now, he had a problem of his own going on in his pants and Rus’s magic was crackling hotly in the air, searing lightning searching for the ground

"lay back, sugar," Red slipped off his shorts, briefly fisting his own cock, groaning at the feel of his own hard fingers.

Rus did it instantly, squirming as he worked his pants down his legs and kicked them off even as he asked doubtfully, "this is what you want as a favor?"

"nope, this is mine by right.” Red jerked Rus down until his pelvis was at the edge of the sofa, long legs dangling to the floor. He shuffled forward, lining his cock up with Rus’s eagerly clenching entrance, smearing his cock with golden wetness. “i'll let you know about the favor."

Then he shoved into that wet pussy, groaning at the soaking, tight heat around him as Rus’s wail filled the room. 

So fucking gorgeous, watching Rus whimper and flail as Red fucked him. Pretty as Rus was on his knees, Red liked him better on his back. Liked watching that lovely face scrunch up every time Red fucked into him, honeyed tears welling up, streaming down the rounded curves of his cheekbones as that sassy mouth dropped open and his tongue curled behind his teeth.

In the down under, he got to watch his dick moving in the soft, golden magic that filled Rus's pelvis. His cunt was a slippery, plush delight, that first thrust inside always bordered on too tight until his walls loosened up a little, Rus whimpering out little cries as Red forced his cock in, past the rippling clench to fill him up.

And fuck him for how hot that was. Red knew Rus could take a fist all the way up to the elbow into his pussy, a cock wasn't no big thing, (heh), but the _feel_ of it, fuck, like taking his virginity all over again. Red braced his heels against the coffee table and pumped harder, watched the length of his shaft slide in, pussy lips spreading wide around it, parting to give him a nice look at Rus's swollen clit. Red reached down to trace around it teasingly with a careful, sharp-tipped finger and Rus let out a frantic whine. 

"you want somethin’, sweetheart?" Red panted out.

"i want to come!" Sweet desperation poured from him, fuck, talk about no stamina. Then again, Rus was like a little energizer bunny of orgasms, he could keep going and going, popping off one after another. Wasn’t no reason to hold him back now. 

One hard drag of Red’s thumb over his clit and Rus was arching, his legs going tight around Red’s hips, holding him in deep as he convulsed. A fresh rush of wetness flooding his pussy, smoothing out the ride.

Rus sagged back against the cushions, hiccoughing soft little cries as Red kept it up. His own orgasm was swelling in him, tantalizingly close. Next to him, the sofa suddenly dipped with added weight and maybe Red couldn’t lean up high enough to give Rus’s pleading mouth a kiss, but that was fine, cause Edge was there to do it for him, his brother’s crimson tongue moving sinuously against Rus's golden one, fuck, yeah.

"come on down here, bro,” Red growled, flicking his thumb over Rus’s swollen clit again, “got something better for you to work with."

His brother shifted downward instantly, tilting his head in to lick at that sensitive nub. His crimson tongue was long, prehensile, dipping in between Rus’s femurs. Not his normal one, either, this one forked at the tip, all the better to work against Rus's clit, circling it from both sides, yeah, his fucking clever brother. Sometimes it wandered too low, one of the tips occasionally grazed against Red's cock, slyly pushing into Rus’s cunt and catching Red off-guard with a brief firework of sensation.

Red could taste his own sweat, sharp and faintly bitter, tried not to jerk as that tongue lashed against him again. He didn’t want Edge the same way he did Rus, he _didn’t_ , but oh, you kid—

Fuck it, he couldn’t hold out anymore.

Red let go with a groan, pulling out to come in hot streaks over Rus's pelvis, and, oh, yeah, his bro's face. Edge flinched, closing his sockets and didn't stop, licking Rus through another orgasm even as a glossy spurt of come striped across his tongue, the fluid a shade of crimson darker than the ectoflesh. 

With a deeply satisfied sigh, Red shuffled over enough to flop on the sofa even as Rus trembled and writhed through his shuddering ecstasy. He watched through narrowed sockets as Edge sat up, blinking too fast and his tremulous expression was loaded with conflicting signals. Almost, Red reached out, his sense still blurrily pleased, struck with the idea of rubbing his come in, smearing it across his brother’s scarred bones, marking him—

He reeled back, snorting aloud at his own stupidity. Yeah, yeah, his brother and no one else’s. He’d lived that schtick his whole life, no reason to complicate it now. 

Looking at it sideways, the mess of his come was dripping down Edge’s skull in a way that made Red think hilariously of strawberry syrup on cheesecake. 

Well, it could be a sweet treat for someone to eat, now couldn’t it.

"whoopsie, looks like i messed him up," Red drawled, elbowing Rus lightly. "you gonna clean him up, sugar skull?"

Rus stirred at the pet name, sockets fluttering open, then going wide as he took in the sights. He swallowed audibly, husking out, "yeah i can…i can do that if…if you want?"

Like Edge was even capable of turning that down. A short, sharp nod and Edge sat obediently still, let Rus lave at his face, greedily licking up the spatters while Red watched the crimson smearing the deeper gold of his tongue avidly. The sudden flood of fresh arousal was startling, almost unwelcome.

Almost.

The way he figured it, Edge would only stand that for so long before he hauled them all off to their massive shower. The three of them standing together beneath the generous spray, the water pouring down on them about two degrees lower than the temperature of lava, exactly how Rus liked it. The probability of blowjobs or fucking was high and so was the chance of a nap afterward, Rus snuggled up against him blissfully well-fucked, his brother on the other side. A preciously rare gift from the Angel to make up for the slagging shithole of Red’s life before.

He'd guarantee that Rus would mumble out a sleepy ‘I love you’ for them both before drifting off and right about then, Red wanted that more than anything in the fucking world. Those three words, Rus, and Edge. 

His, all his in a way no one’d ever been his entire life. Not even Sans. 

Red didn’t have a fucking clue what game they were playing anymore. Didn’t matter, either. All he knew was that the fates were sore losers and that he didn’t give a shit. 

He was playing to win. 

-fin


	9. Endurance Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blue's POV after Red leaves his house in the last chapter. His perspective on being Chosen might be a little different than Red's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, pairings: Blue/Sans, Blue/Papyrus. 
> 
> Next, WARNINGS, PLEASE READ.
> 
> Whew, how to warn for this. I want to label it dubious consent, because while Guards know what they are getting into when they sign on and no one is forced to become a guard, it still FEELS like dubious consent and some unpleasant sexual content. So be warned.
> 
> There's also some description of Blue's injuries, which if you read the last chapter, you know there were plenty. It's not particularly gruesome, but I want to warn. 
> 
> Do I need to warn for Unhealthy Relationships? Yeah, 'cause that's a thing. Oh, boys, why do you do this to me?

* * *

Blue watched Red silently as he stormed away, around the corner of the house to the car that was surely parked for him by the curb. He stayed there on the porch, watching condensation roll lazily down their half-drunk glasses of lemonade, waiting as he listened to distant tires squealing away.

The sun was hot overhead, even birds often failed to sing in the worst of the afternoon heat. A brief longing for Snowdin jabbed into Blue’s battered soul like a hatpin, memories of cold mounds of snow, of a little brother who was missing his two front teeth and still only came up to Blue’s chin. A brother he hadn’t seen in years aside from pictures and whose letters Blue could no longer open, not since Rus was Chosen as Judge.

They came like clockwork, once a week, a plain envelope with his name written in penmanship that he’d seen over the years go from childish scribbles to tidy letters cramped together so tightly they near fell over each other in an attempt to form his name.

Every week Blue took that letter out of his mailbox and every week he tucked it in with the rest, unopened, filed and sorted by date.

This week’s letter was due in two days’ time and he would retrieve it like he had all the others despite Papyrus offering to get the mail. 

Penance always came due and Blue would not shirk accepting his. 

By the time Blue stirred again, the ice cubes were dwindled in the glasses. He picked up his and drained it to the last drop. Even with the tartness of the lemonade diluted and watery, it soothed his thirst.

The tray was too difficult to manage with only one hand and on days when he’d spent time on his damaged knees in the garden, Blue needed that hand to hold his cane more than ever. Instead, he set the glasses on the tray, wiping away the smeary puddles of water they left behind with his bandana. Papyrus would be more than happy to clear it away, would be purely delighted if Blue asked him to gather up the wagon and trowel he’d left behind out in the field. 

Life was a great deal easier with Papyrus here with him, in so many ways.

When they’d first released Blue from the care of the healers, he’d been grateful to be away, leaving behind the pity that barely hid their disgust. Had Asgore still been alive, they likely would have left him to dust. It would have been a kindness to do so, rather than healing him only to execute him later for his failures. 

The Queen was the one who demanded he be cared for and even then, Blue was less grateful than he was confused, expecting any day for his brother to come to him for a last Judgement.

Blue shivered despite the heat of the sun, struggling against memories that he wished were as blurred as his days of healing. He took his cane in hand, limping into the house and the cooling wash of air conditioning on the sweat dappling his bones left him shivering anew. 

The house was tidy as a pin, exactly as Blue preferred it, even if he wasn’t the one who kept it this way. In the kitchen was freshly ground coffee in a container that was easily opened with one hand. Blue turned on the kettle, leaning against the counter as he waited for it to heat.

He didn’t watch it. The polished metal was too likely to cast a distorted reflection back at him and Blue’s face was troublesome enough without it. Broken and healed, as much as it could be.

They’d put him back together as best they could at the Queen’s behest, given him a home to live in, and then left him here alone. They, the ubiquitous they; the Guard, the Monster community, even his brother, though it was quite clear that wasn’t Rus’s choice. The entirety of his world left him here to struggle with the most basic of tasks. 

Hoping, perhaps, that if they weren’t allowed to let him die, that he would take care of that for them, by accident or otherwise.

There were days when Blue hoped he would, too. The worst of it was those first weeks with pain still throbbing rawly through his imperfectly healed bones, staring hatefully at his own reflection in the mirror. He’d spit on it once, watched the glob of used magic trailing down the glass, smearing across the shattered image of his face in an unbroken mirror.

Everything hurt back then, his body, his soul, the swollen, too-recent memory of what happened in the throne room. Watching as Sans loomed over them all, his small body brimming with power, overflowing with unearthly rage as they were all of them, even the King, mercilessly Judged. The agony that raked over Blue’s soul like invisible claws as the Judge looked within it, scooping him out until he was hollow and weighing him before all creation. The next he knew, he was lying on the stinking, burnt remains of the golden flowers that once carpeted the throne room, his head ringing, and coated so thickly with dust there were days Blue still thought he could taste it, chalky and bitter on the back of his tongue. 

It was…not a good memory.

Things were better now that Papyrus was here. He was the one who removed all the mirrors, saying that if they upset Blue, then why keep them around, a question Blue never once thought to ask himself. Papyrus was the one who rearranged the entire house, moving the bed downstairs into the living room as he laughed that no one cared where they slept in their own home, so why force Blue to climb the stairs every night. Papyrus was the one who cooked, the one who cleaned, who made lemonade and carried it out for Blue so he might have a cold drink while he worked in the gardens. He was the one who took Blue from caretaker to cared for, and the pure gratitude Blue felt towards him for it brought stinging tears to his good socket.

Red simply didn’t understand, and how could he? Rumor had it that those three cavorted like lovers rather than Chosen in the service of the Crown and Angel.

On one hand it was near blasphemous and on the other…Blue hoped Red was right, that his brother was happy and not simply enduring what his body required. Blue wanted that for Rus and if the Angel disapproved, then surely She wouldn't have allowed Edge and Red such liberties. 

Red hid his emotions well, but Blue was Chosen for several years. He knew how to see deeper things that others did not, and he could see the depth of affection in Red’s eye lights when he spoke of Rus, the adoration, the purity of love. 

The kettle hissed steam and Blue startled, lifting it from the base to pour over the grounds already in the strainer basket. Watched as it dripped through the hourglass shape of the gravity brewer, clear turning to a rich brown. Better coffee, according to Papyrus, and easier for Blue to use than having to mess with filters and pots and whatnot.

When it was finished, Blue took his cup out to the living room where the bed was pushed into one corner and two chairs sat across from it. He chose one of the chairs, sipping from his cup, the coffee hot and black exactly as he liked it and nothing like his brother’s preference for all things sweet.

He wondered how often Red and Edge indulged him, their affection overruling their good sense. 

Strange, really. As many years as Blue spent in the guard, he’d felt many things; pride at a duty well done, determination to keep his charge well cared for, yes, even some affection. He’d been fond of Sans and if he weren’t Chosen, if things had been different, Blue might have been happy to call him friend.

He might have anyway, had it not been for that certain part of his duties. Blue had done what was required of him, kept to his vows, and hated every moment of it. If there was one faint, thin silver lining he’d found in his disgrace, it was the shameful relief that duty was over.

No more evenings dreading being called to the Judge’s room to service him. Allowing his body to be used, blanking his mind as he’d been taught while keeping his distaste to himself. It was only another unpleasant chore to be done, like when he'd been an initiate and was sent to scrub toilets with an old toothbrush. Even during his training, he’d disliked those sex acts. Having the other guards pawing at him, fouling him with their fluids, grunting over him and expecting him to do the same.

He'd only swallowed down his disgust and done what was required, learned his lessons quickly, endured until his skills were well-appreciated and occasionally even requested by the others. That he declined; he’d joined the Guard so that he might be Chosen for service to the Judge, not any sweaty initiate who might wish to grab onto his skull and fuck his mouth without care.

Blue sipped his coffee, lost in memory. As much as he’d been grateful that Sans had so many Chosen, lessening the likelihood of him being required, there was always that awful moment in the evening, the terrible anticipation as he waited restlessly to see if he’d be summoned. 

In those days, Chosen had their own rooms in the Judge’s wing of the castle and Blue would wait in his, always carefully washed and groomed, bones polished and prepared as he waited to see if the Night guard would come to his room and tell him with formal politeness that the Judge requested his presence. Then he would walk alone to the Judge’s rooms, reciting his vows beneath his breath. It was an honor to serve, an honor to be Chosen, and he would never fail in any of duties before King or Judge. 

When it came to the actual act, Blue preferred oral sex; it was far easier to focus on the task at hand and he was skilled enough to bring the Judge off quickly, several times in a row if necessary. Sans seemed to know it and usually didn’t ask him for anything else. Certainly things were a lot better after Sans stopped trying to make him come.

But that was only a small part of being a guard, hastily done and forgotten. His nightly duties might have been distasteful, but during the day protecting the Judge was an incredible honor and he _had_ been very fond of Sans, an affection that Sans seemed to return. 

Blue was often the one caring for him after a Judging, cleaning up his frail body, soothing away his shivers and nightmares. Cooking him fragrant broths and holding the cup to Sans’s chattering teeth, gently urging him to drink. Caring for the Judge in every way he could, and if it often ended with him on his back, Sans moving over him, inside him, it was a small price to pay to be a highly sought after Chosen.

In the darkest, bitterest corner of his mind, Blue wondered if it was best that Sans hadn’t survived his last Judging. After enduring that, Blue wasn’t entirely sure he could have allowed Sans to touch him again.

But broken as it was, his body was his own now and giving it was _his_ choice. His time as Chosen was done and the Judge would never touch him again. He shuddered faintly to think of it, of the merest possibility of Sans using his brother’s hands on him, fouling his precious memories of Rus.

No matter Red’s insinuations or his brother’s letters arriving like clockwork, it could not happen. It would not.

The front door opening startled Blue out of his thoughts. He turned to see Papyrus coming in, his arms loaded with grocery bags. 

"I'm home!" Papyrus sang out. Blue smiled involuntarily. He didn't smile much these days, it pulled on the cracks in his skull painfully, but it was nearly impossible to resist the urge when faced with Papyrus. He was filled with endless cheer, drawing it from an overflowing well somewhere deep inside himself. 

When Papyrus first came here Blue only knew him by reputation, Sans’s younger brother, the guard who washed out so many times. In those days if Blue thought of him at all, he might have supposed Papyrus to be naïve, particularly when it came to what he would be forced to endure if Sans Chose him. As it turned out, it wasn’t the sexual aspect that was the issue. Papyrus couldn’t bring himself to kill and as useless as that was to a guard, it was still a good trait to have in Blue’s opinion.

“Just look at you, drinking coffee while you’re still sweaty, honestly! I know that you’ve been working outside for far too long,” Papyrus went on, in that tone that somehow managed to be both scolding and cheery. 

“Do you think so?” Blue asked, teasingly. He set his empty mug aside and limped into the kitchen to help empty the bags. Setting their contents on the countertop, sorting them by dry goods and refrigerator. Papyrus was a whirlwind, moving about as he put things away. He towered over Blue, long, gangly limbs moving in tandem as he sorted out his purchases, muttering beneath his breath at what items would be needed for tonight’s dinner, what might be needed now. Papyrus was a fair cook, partially trained guard that he was, and with Blue’s guidance, he was improving by the day.

So unlike his brother, in so many ways. 

“Don’t you always?” Papyrus retorted.

“I suppose I do,” Blue admitted. He set the butter with the rest of the refrigerator items, salted and unsalted, ready for a variety of recipes. “I’ve always had to work hard.”

He bent down to retrieve a bag of apples, stilling as Papyrus came up suddenly behind him and sank down to kneel on the floor. Hands settled on his pelvis, drawing him down into Papyrus’s lap and a chill ran through Blue at the hard pressure on his tailbone. 

"Hmmm, but are you a _hard_ worker,” Papyrus murmured, one spidery-slim hand cupping between Blue’s legs. “I was thinking of you at the store. Standing there in the produce section like a fool, remembering how you were last night. I couldn’t seem to help myself." He nuzzled at the back of Blue's skull, his tongue curling around the sensitive place where it joined his spine.

“Did you?” Blue managed. Last night in their shared bed, Blue only lay back on the clean sheets and let Papyrus have him, the same as he had every night since Papyrus came to live with him. Moaning as he’d been taught, playing at enthusiasm and if Papyrus knew his shuddering climax for a joyless sham, he showed no sign of it.

His hands went to the front of Blue's trousers, toying at the fastenings. "Can I?"

Blue closed his sockets. "Of course."

With gentle hands, Papyrus rid him of his trousers and helped him to his uncertain knees. Blue buried his broken face into his arm, focused on his breathing. Papyrus was always gentle, but so damned persistent, he wouldn’t stop until Blue came, reluctantly, shivering with unwanted orgasm. He summoned his cunt already dripping wet, giving the appearance of being desperately aroused, and Papyrus hummed in the delight to discover it, his fingers pushing inside, testing that slipperiness. 

There were times that Papyrus drew this out, lingering until Blue snapped at him with impatience disguised as urgency. Today, he must have been too eager, worked up from his imaginings, because he pulled his fingers out quickly. The sound of his zipper was loud in the small room, the rustle of clothing before the tip of his shaft butted up against Blue’s clenching entrance.

Papyrus pushed the heavy length of his cock into Blue's pussy, stretching his lips around that solid girth and the pinch of it make him hiss. Bigger than Sans, so much bigger, and somehow Blue always forgot until it was forcing its way inside him.

He'd thought his days of enduring this were over. The Judge was dead, long live the Judge, and Blue would be alone until he finally dusted, as he should have in the throne room. 

Until Papyrus showed up at his front door.

It was quick at least. Papyrus’s pelvis pounded against his own as he grunted with pleasure. The cracks that ran through Blue’s bones sang with pain as Papyrus’s pace quickened and then he stilled, the surging warmth of his cum filling Blue’s aching pussy before he could offer even the pretense of an orgasm. Papyrus slumped over Blue, carefully keeping the bulk of his weight off him, then withdrew, his seed seeping down the inside of Blue’s femurs in a filthy flood.

He rolled Blue gently onto his back and there he lay, staring up at the ceiling as Papyrus buried his face against his cunt to lick at the soft, slick folds. Absently, he decided that they needed to clean again, there was a cobweb in one corner. 

Then Blue closed his sockets, shuddering as the clever tongue inside him brought him to a reluctant peak. When he was finished, shivering unpleasantly, Papyrus lifted him into his arms, holding him close. That at least was something to appreciate, and Blue snuggled into the embrace, returning it the best he could with his single arm. 

"You always take care of me," Papyrus sighed happily, scattering gentle kisses over his skull. "Just like Sans said you would."

"I always will," Blue promised, dully. It was his duty and he might be shamed, a failed Chosen when it came to protecting his Judge, but he would not fail in this. Penance always came due and he would endure it. The Judge's little brother would be safe with him, for as long as Blue drew breath. 

Soon, Papyrus would carry him to the bathroom and wash him clean, and if it roused him, ignited his need again, perhaps he’d be satisfied with Blue’s mouth this time. 

It was something to hope for and a small price to pay, really, to keep Papyrus here with him. If only the anticipation wasn’t always so terrible, the waiting, oh, by the Angel, always waiting for this again.

Blue closed his sockets as Papyrus rose with him in his arms, already babbling softly about showers and dinner. He’d know soon enough what else needed to be endured and the wait would be done. For at least a little while.

-finis-


	10. Saving Grace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The more things change, the more they stay the same.

* * *

It was the bed rocking that woke him, the subtlest of movements mirroring the ocean that Edge had yet to see. Not the wild thrashing of earlier, a storm on the sea as Rus flopped and screamed on the mattress like a fish out of water while caught in the net of a nightmare that may or may not have been his own. 

Waking him from the terrible grasp of those dreams was both a mercy and a necessity. Once, he’d thrashed hard enough to crack his ulna against the headboard and Edge still wondered that the pain of it still hadn’t woken him. Wondered at what horrors he saw inside his own skull that only accepted the agony of a broken bone as part of it. 

Over time, he and Red learned the best way to wake him was to first pin Rus with blue magic and then sandwich him between their bodies. Wrapping him in the cage of their arms and legs as they spoke to him, loud, soothing reassurances until whatever terrors haunted him slowly released their grip, leaving him panting and sobbing, dripping with sweat and snot and tears that ended up on all three of them as he clung to them both, not that Edge or Red cared. They only held him until the trembling eased and then left the bed one at a time for washcloths, fresh pajamas, a cup of tea; whatever Rus needed, they always gave it, but with particularly special care on those nights. 

Those nightmares did not in any way invite sex; any magic buildup Rus had was spent in a rush of sobbing and soul-wrenching fear. The night before it had taken an hour of gentle soothing and comfort for Rus to fall asleep again, the occasional tremor still rattling through him even as Edge crooned wordless reassurances and Red gently pet his freshly washed skull. It had taken another hour for Edge to allow himself to sink back into sleep again, still holding Rus close and gripping Red’s wrist in a loose hold over Rus’s sleeping form. Red wasn’t likely to go anywhere, but Edge hadn’t survived all these years by trusting anything to chance. 

But the slow, rhythmic rocking of the mattress beneath him now was rousingly familiar and did not take any more than a sleepy guess to figure out that Rus must be feeling much better. That was followed by a touch of pique that neither of them woke him, but it hardly rose past a fleeting mild irritation. They were still in the bed next to him, at least. He could work with this. 

Edge opened his sockets slowly to keep his eye lights from revealing him. It turned out to be a pointless gesture since all he could see was the back of Rus’s skull, faintly gleaming with sweat even in their darkened bedroom. The blankets were pushed to one side, carelessly heaped over Edge which certainly explained the sweat was starting to rise on his own bones from the extra coverings. He endured it for the moment, choosing instead to focus on the lovely, bare bones lying next to him. 

He kept his sockets hooded, allowing his gaze to skim down the length of Rus’s body. Below the waist was a tangle of limbs, his and Red’s, the glow of ectoflesh revealing. Red was fucking him excruciatingly slow, his cock moving visibly within the soft golden magic formed in Rus’s pelvis. His hips were barely moving, but he must have done something particularly skillful; as Edge watched, Rus twitched, a tiny sound escaping him as he curled down to where Red’s skull likely was. Their disparate heights meant Red wouldn’t be able to see past Rus’s ribcage, his skull scraping lightly against the long, flat bones.

Red had questioned Rus hopefully about forming breasts only once, a suggestion that was soundly rejected, and if he were disappointed by the lack of a pillowy place to rest his skull, his brother never said it. 

They certainly weren’t missed by Edge. The rounded cushion of Rus’s ass was a much better pleasure, particularly now with the way it was brushing against Edge’s crotch with every slow thrust. He wasn’t hard yet, but with every light grind, he was certainly getting there. 

Rus didn’t often form an entire body and even when he did, the flesh was scant; his femurs encased to the knees in only a thin layer of golden ectoflesh and his pelvis offering little cushion. Until it came down to the curve of his backside, generous curves to cup in both of Edge’s not inconsiderable hands, an ass that begged for a touch or perhaps a teasing spank.

A breathily soft sound came from Rus, struggling to be stifled. Likely he thought Edge was still asleep and was trying fruitlessly not to wake him. Cupping the pert globes of his ass and squeezing them was enough to dispel that notion and Rus startled, his squeak of surprise cut off on a cry as Edge slipped a finger into his cleft.

Rus’s top leg was draped over Red’s hip, leaving him open for his brother to fuck into him and for Edge to slide his fingers lower to his cunt, feeling for where they were joined. His fingers were instantly slippery, Rus’s pussy was drenched, silken wet heat against probing touch. He grazed the thick length of his brother’s shaft, still moving almost achingly slow, forming his long fingers into a V on either side of it. 

He couldn’t see his brother’s face and it was just as well, because hearing him was often irritating enough. 

“someone’s finally awake,” Red panted out. He thrust suddenly hard, a lewd, squelching sound coupling with Rus’s startled gasp as his shaft surged past Edge’s fingers. “you been havin' a problem waking up lately, bro?”

“Perhaps I’ve been picking up bad habits from you,” Edge said tartly. His long fingers slipped back to fondle between the soft cheeks of Rus’s formed ass again, finding the small, furled hole there and using the slick already on his fingers to carefully press one inside. So tight around his finger, barely able to accept even that single digit, but from Rus’s reaction, it was not painful, or if it was, it was a pain he was craving. That tight passage went even tighter, clenching around his finger as he suddenly convulsed. 

“hnn!” Rus choked out and he was never as beautiful as when he was coming, even if Edge couldn’t see his pretty face. His entire body trembled as if electrocuted, every joint locking as he quivered. Surely Red would normally agree if he weren’t so distracted by a similar clenching of Rus’s pussy. 

His brother’s groan as he came was nearly as satisfying as Rus’s, a low growl wrenched from deep inside him. Edge could feel the sudden bloom of heat inside, his brother’s come filling Rus and it must have felt incredible from the way Rus quivered, already teetering on the brink of another orgasm as he was caught between the softening cock inside his pussy and the finger breaching him from the other side. 

Edge slipped another finger in, both up to the second knuckle, pausing only when Rus whimpered softly. He pressed a light kiss against the side of Rus’s skull, murmuring, “Am I hurting you?”

“no!” Rus gasped. He shook his head desperately, flinging a mist of sweat from his skull, “no, doesn’t hurt, just—" His hips hitched back pleadingly, and another soft cry escaped him as Edge found the facsimile of his prostate, pressing lightly. 

Beautiful, so beautiful for them, always. Edge wanted to inhale the smell of their sex, taste the heady spice of it, but he also wanted inside that tight little hole, wanted to feel Rus’s ass clench around him as he came again, hm, so many choices. He was still contemplating the options when a short, sharp chime sounded. Red’s phone and he groaned even as he finally withdrew, ignoring Rus’s unhappy whine as he rolled off the bed with his cock bobbing soft and wet between his short legs.

The light of his phone screen was stark in the darkened room and he huffed out, annoyed, “sorry, honey, gotta take this one. take over, bro.”

“Gladly,” Edge murmured. He crowded in behind Rus, adjusting the angle of his hips and tugging at the drawstrings of his pants to let his cock free. 

Sweat slick bones glided against the silk of Edge's pajamas, Rus choking out a cry as Edge pressed directly into the slippery, stinging heat of his pussy, sliding through the thickness of his brother's come. They’d been at it for longer than he thought, perhaps his brother was right about him needing more sleep. 

Rus whimpered, one hand flailing back as he tried and failed to get a grip on Edge’s pajamas. He was squirming and writhing as he begged, making it difficult to find a decent rhythm and with a growl of frustration, Edge rolled them over, pinning Rus down against the mattress with his own weight and his hands on slender wrists. The shift in position forced Rus’s backside into the air and Edge gladly took the offered angle, thrusting in hard enough that his hips slapped loudly against Rus’s ass cheeks. 

“ah!...you fucker!” Rus choked out. His struggles were little more than a tease, his pussy was already clenching tightly around Edge’s cock as if trying to hold on to him that way. It felt glorious, but he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. He had a plan and it did not include letting Rus win. 

He thrust once more, then withdrew, ignoring Rus’s loud protest and moving those slender wrists to one hand as he reached down to line up the head of his cock between those soft cheeks. The slickness of his brother’s come and Rus’s own wetness made everything slippery as he snubbed up against the furled entrance and began to push. 

“oh,” Rus whimpered, as he slowly pressed in. “oh, yes, please, please!” His ass was tighter even than his pussy, that little hole giving in reluctant increments, slowly letting him in. So tight and by the time he was fully inside, his pelvis pressed tight against Rus’s, Edge was the one struggling for control. He let his skull drop down between Rus’s shoulder blades, smearing sweat between them as he gasped in short, sharp breaths, each one smoggy with the rich smell of their sex. 

Rus was not helping in the slightest, still writhing and begging, his wrists straining in Edge’s grip and he’d managed to get his knees under him, using the leverage to grind his hips furiously up against Edge’s. 

Well, if that was what he wanted, that was what he could get. Edge pressed a single, gentle kiss between Rus’s scapulas, and it was the last gentle thing he did. 

Rus’s strangled scream echoed in the small room, filled with agonized delight as Edge fucked roughly into him, shoving inside with near savage rhythm, the slap of their summoned flesh coming together a drumbeat amplified by their shared gasps and ragged breathing. There was no consideration, no kindness, only the wildness of their need and Edge followed it, shifting his grip from wrists to hips, holding Rus still for every jolting thrust. 

He felt it the moment Rus came, the hard, spiraling clench of his ass around Edge’s cock as he went rigid, clawing at the sheets and pillows as he let out another choked scream. His knees gave out, spilling them both down to the mattress and Edge followed him, still chasing his own pleasure, thrusting into Rus’s suddenly pliant body until the crest overtook him. 

At the last possible second, he pulled out, groaning raggedly at the suddenly cool air on his wet cock as he took himself in hand and stroked urgently, coming in thick, crimson lines, glossy slick over golden ectoflesh and pale bones. So much of it, more than usual, and he nearly growled in satisfaction at the sight of it marking Rus. He reached out to smear those perfect lines, painting him in his magic and his scent.

Rus barely stirred, mumbling out, “not good enough to mess me up, you gotta rub it all in?”

“Yes,” Edge agreed, hoarsely. It wouldn’t last, no mark that Edge left on Rus did. Not his scent, his come, the lovely circles of bruises that were rising up on his wrists. All of it faded eventually, given time, and the pain of that was a minor one. They were all marked by something deeper, bound by the Divine, and that was a link that nothing could take away. 

The bedroom door slamming opening startled them both, his brother’s booted footsteps heavy and quick. He started snatching clothes haphazardly from drawers, tossing them in Rus and Edge’s direction. 

“get up,” Red said tersely. “there’s been another attack. we need to get out of here.” 

Edge was on his feet before his brother finished speaking, dressing swiftly. Rus moved slower, clutching one of the shirts Red tossed at him to his still-dripping ribcage. His bright eye lights dimmed, shrinking into pale, frightened spots of light.

“what?” Rus asked, his voice small and scared, “another…but where are we going? i thought we’d be safer here?”

“not this time, we’re gettin' gone, honey, now move!” Red snapped. He snatched Rus’s robes from the back of the chair where Edge laid them out the night before, tossing them towards him.

The bedroom was supposed to be a saferoom, carefully designed with the walls reinforced and spells woven into the very fabric of it, carved into the concrete and joists. It should have protected them against almost anything, but Edge trusted his brother’s judgement. If ‘almost’ was headed their way, then they needed to get Rus away from it immediately. 

He let his training take over, moving briskly as they made ready for flight. In the far back of their closet was a heavy black duffle bag and the moment Edge’s boots were tied, he went to grab it, carrying it to the door. A ‘get the fuck out of dodge bag’, Red always called it; he’d been packing them since they were still in stripes and barely off the streets, distrustful of their caretakers and ready to flee at a moment’s notice. 

“ETA?” Edge asked tersely. 

“too fuckin' soon.” Rus was still struggling into his clothes and Red stalked over to him, yanking the tangle of cloth roughly down over Rus’s head, “sweetheart, i know you’re scared but we ain’t got time.”

“i’m with you,” Rus said, shakily, but he stood and shoved his feet into his shoes. Soft-soled, useless shoes, Edge couldn’t even say when the last time was he’d even worn so much as sneakers, but there wasn’t time to worry about that now. 

“c’mon, both of ya.” Red led the way out into the living room, towards the single window in the back of it. Edge was forced to nearly drag Rus along with him, he was still moving with almost dreamy slowness, not disbelieving but as if unable to comprehend that this was truly happening. 

Red skirted the windowpane, peering out carefully at the street below. Edge did the same, holding Rus back when he nearly stepped right in front of it. Nothing seemed out of place, there were no mobs surrounding the building, no screams or gunfire. Outside the fence surround the Embassy, the city of Ebott was going on as normal, people on the sidewalks walking their dogs or heading to work, a coffee in one hand and a cell phone in another. 

Normal or suspiciously normal, Edge did not know, and he looked at his brother, asking silent questions with his eye lights. 

Red took no time to offer answers, he only turned back to Rus urgently, “can you teleport the three of us outside the gates? don’t bullshit me, rus, now ain’t the time.”

Judges were all able to teleport as a hasty exit from an ugly situation for their host, but the price was a hefty magic drain that left them vulnerable. The only time Rus ever did it was in a fit a pique when his Chosen were aggravating him in some way, and only ever directly into the safety of their quarters. 

“i don’t know,” Rus stammered. Tall as he was, he seemed so small then, his slenderness no waifish enticement but only a further sign of his fragility. He faltered, sockets fearfully wide, “i’ve never…i think…maybe?”

“and fuck me if it ain’t my fault for not thinkin’ ahead and testin’ it out.” Red slammed a fist against his forehead, “stupid! okay, okay.” He took a deep, slow breath and let it out, his eye lights cold, burning coals as he said, “this is what we’re gonna do. you take edge with you and head down to that coffee shop right there.” He tapped the glass, indicating a prim little sign shaped like a steaming cup on the other side of the fence. “there’s gonna be a car waiting for you—"

“what?” Rus interrupted, horror-stricken, “no! i’m not leaving you here!”

“this ain’t up for discussion!” Red snapped. “you two get down to that shop, i got someone meetin’ you.” He gave them both a humorous slash of a grin, tongue flicking out over his jagged teeth. “prolly we can trust ‘em. if we can’t, bro, that’s on you.”

Edge hardly began asking who they’d be meeting when Rus shoved in front of him, too close to the window and shaking his head frantically. “no. no, i won’t, i won’t…!”

“would you shut the fuck up and listen to me!” Red snarled at him, cold and hard. There was no room for tenderness here or goodbyes, only necessity. Edge did not intervene, his own soul sitting heavy as lead in his chest as Red went on, “there ain’t time! get down there, i’ll hold ‘em back.”

Rus only stood there, tears starting to stream down his cheekbones as he shouted, “i said i won’t leave you!”

“honey,” Red took hold of the front of Rus’s robe and jerked him down to his level, their faces inches apart as he said in a low voice. “you need to start listenin’ to me.”

The sudden, sharp scene of ozone crackled in the air. Red let go of Rus’s robe with a hiss, shaking his hand even as those pale eye lights went golden, the aura of his power flaring around him like the birth of a sun from the darkness. His feet left the floor as he rose, surrounded in ethereal glory as the Judge stared down at them both. 

“I Do Listen,” The Judge said coolly, “I Simply Don’t Obey.”

Later, Edge couldn’t describe exactly what happened. One moment they were standing by the window and then…the entire world sank into that vast golden light. He was caught up in brief moment of endless agony down to the cellular level, his own magic a mere droplet in a ceaseless ocean as he was torn apart and reborn. Then his feet were back on solid ground and Edge was blinking in the blinding sunlight, his skull aching so fiercely that he wondered with dazed concern if he’d gotten another crack. 

When Edge could see again, he found that Rus’s aim was a little off. They’d landed in the middle of the shop’s outdoor patio and all around them were toppled over tables, shards of coffee cups and saucers littering the ground and Humans running away, leaving behind their cappuccino and espressos as their reasonable fear of the unknown made them flee. 

Next to him, Rus was swaying on his feet, already sinking towards the ground. Edge caught him before he fainted, holding him up. Normally, swinging his light weight up into his arms would be easy but his own disorientation coupled with the heavy bag still over his shoulder left him off-balance, only barely catching himself before they both fell. 

Red was picking himself up from the ground, twin lines of crimson running from his nasal aperture and Edge realized the front of his own shirt was splattered with marrow. Teleporting was not the easiest mode of travel for passengers, it seemed. 

More marrow flew from his nasal passage as Red staggered over to the sidewalk where the road sat empty. “c’mon, c’mon, where the fuck are you.”

At that moment, as if summoned by his brother’s chant, a car came squealing around the corner, pulling up next to them. It was distinctly plain, almost ridiculously so, a simple four-door sedan in an unobtrusive shade a muted blue. 

Then a familiar head poked out of the window, the bright red fronds glistening in the sunlight tearing away any illusion of subtlety. “What the fuck are you waiting for, a corsage? Get the fuck in the back!”

“Undyne?” Edge said, disbelieving, but when his brother opened the door, he didn’t hesitate, scrambling clumsily into the back and pulling Rus along with him. The tires squealed and smoked as Undyne laid on the gas almost before the door was closed behind them and they tore off down the road. 

“slow the fuck down!” Red snarled. He crawled over the middle console into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt with incongruous grace. “you tryin’ to get us pulled over? the last fuckin’ thing we want is to get the humie cops into all this!”

“Yeah, yeah, cool your ass,” Undyne sniped, even as she slowed to a reasonable speed. “Where we headed?”

“just drive, i’ll tell ya where to turn,” Red sank back in the seat, sockets sinking wearily closed, “we gotta ditch this car, asap, and get another ‘fore we head to any safe house.” 

“It’s your world, chief. Heya, asshole,” Undyne met Edge’s gaze in the review mirror, her needle-sharp grin twisted. “You get promoted and never stop by for a beer anymore. Good to see you, you shit. Didn’t expect it to be like this.”

“Neither did I,” Edge managed. Now that they were out of immediate danger, exhaustion was starting to tug at him. He swiped at his nasal aperture with his sleeve, grimacing at the bright smear of marrow it left behind. Speckles were falling down on Rus as well, gruesomely freckling his pale robes. “I would have preferred simply getting coffee instead of insurrection.”

“You said it.” Undyne agreed, “There’s clothes for you and his majesty in the back. Might wanna get your boy into something less conspicuous, those robes stick out like a sore fin. Dunno how well they’ll fit, the queen tossed me the bag as she was shoving me out the door.”

In Edge’s arms, Rus mumbled out, “not a majesty.” He still sounded muzzy and confused, and Edge reluctantly let him go as he pushed himself upright and reached for Undyne’s little black bag. Between the two of them, they got Rus out of his stained robes and into a pair of sweatpants and an oversized bright orange sweatshirt that hung on his slim frame. There was something almost familiar about those clothes, something that Edge couldn’t place, and he mulled it over as he helped Rus tie the laces on his newly acquired Converse. 

Red craned his head to look at them, his gaze flicking over Rus approvingly. “different look for you, honey.”

“you really think so?” Rus plucked idly at the front of his sweatshirt, “‘cause these were actually my clothes. from before. where did you say you got these?”

Undyne didn’t look away from the road. “From the queen's ‘oh shit, run’ stash.”

“yeah, that makes sense.” Rus drew up the hood and suddenly a nagging sense of familiarity clicked as Edge stared at him in shock. 

“I know you.”

Rus gave him a strange look, his brow bone furrowing. “uh, yeah you’ve been knowing me pretty intimately for a while now.”

“No, I saw you before,” Edge said slowly, still staring, lost in memory. “When I was training. You used to come to the barracks occasionally with Papyrus.”

Rus blinked, startled. “you remember that? yeah, we hung out sometimes, me and paps. with sans as judge and my brother as his chosen, we kinda had something in common.” Rus sighed and sank back against the seat as Edge shook himself from his stupor and started changing his own clothes. “i haven’t seen him since i was chosen myself. i wonder what he’s doing these days.”

“From what I heard, living it up with your brother,” Undyne said absently. 

“What?” Rus said, sockets widening. “i…i guess that makes sense, sans talked to papyrus about blue once…” His voice went vague, trailing away, and Red turned around in the seat to look at him, his sockets narrowed suspiciously.

“when the fuck was that? sans shouldn’t’ve seen papyrus after he was chosen and he didn’t add blue to his collection until his third or fourth round.” 

“i…i’m not sure.” Rus pressed a hand to his skull as if it ached. The moment Edge finished dressing, he crawled back into his arms, resting his skull in Edge’s lap as he curled up on the narrow seat. 

“This is fascinating and all,” Undyne broke in. She slowed for a yellow light, waiting at the intersection as a Humans scurried in front of them over the crosswalk without a single glance into the car. “but I could really use some directions.” 

Red pointed to an upcoming street, “hang a left here.”

Undyne turned where he indicated and Edge smoothed a hand down Rus’s back, silently urging him to close his sockets and rest. He wouldn’t lie to him that everything would be all right, instead funneling that urge into the determination to make it a truth.

His own eye lights were on the roads, watching where they were going and taking in their surroundings. Watching for anything that might be coming. Whatever happened at the Embassy would not remain there and their only saving grace from the Blessed Angel was a head start.

* * *

tbc


End file.
